Raising Hell

by Daryl Banner

I pull my mouth away from the phone, whisper at him, “Baby, it’s all good, you’re not my type,” in my sincerest, reassuring tone. “Pee in peace, my bro.”

In my best National Geographic narrator voice: This is the first step of the gay mating ritual, a most peculiar and intricate dance of pussyfooting, eye-fucking, and denial. Observe as these crazy bitches of the wild flaunt their feathers.

I’ve had bowel movements more interesting than that little reveal.