I See You've Called in Dead

by John Kenney

“Let me tell you where I see you,” he continued. “But let me start at the top of the social food chain. Lesbians. I see lesbian couples as up here.” He held his long, thin arm straight up. I noticed that the nails of his slim fingers were painted turquoise with small black hearts. “Women are life-givers. They don’t start wars, commit murder. Lesbian couples are almost perfect. Their Achilles heel, of course, is an almost laughable attempt at fashion. Think a female college basketball or lacrosse coach. Culottes. Second …” “Tuan …” “Second would be gay men. Natch.” “Maybe let’s never say natch again.” He ignored me. “While not technically life-givers—despite argument from radical segments of my own people who believe that gender is meaningless in the birth process—imagine a world without us. Clothing, interior design, hair, makeup, choreography, art, theatre, food, topiary. Basically, you’d be left with the gray, ugly world of Eastern Europe during the Cold War or, worse, the soul-crushing blandness of, say, greater Westport, Connecticut.”