SEX AND THE BOY ✓

GROSS PSYCHOLOGY OF SUGAR ANTS

THE NEXT HATEFUL THING AFTER Monday mornings are Monday afternoons, preceding the monster with ambitious herbivore horns, serpentine eyes and arrowheaded tail, two taboos meant to haunt him all his life and there are many reasons for this. Maurice however won't let this one further plunge him into the pit of depression because for a very long time that hasn't existed, this particular Monday afternoon, he has a boyfriend. A caring one in fact.

Maurice is standing by the school gate, waiting, ywiddling his left ear with his index finger with a blank face, he leans over the streetlight, and checks his wristwatch cracked diagonally on the face. It's generally a ghastly sight but Maurice's life is more or less a ghastly show and everything he touches or involves himself with.

Leroi wrapped in a purple jacket with the Crescent's Giants inscribed in bold embossed letters can be heard from afar waving his friends with a big grin--he is always so happy, all the time--on his trapezoid chin, the he twirls the keys around his finger to the car just by his side, the car beeps in response.

It's so hard to be a boyfriend to someone so perfectly made, a life sculpted so lovingly and bright by whoever creates humans when they're not on their period or feeling too masochistic, Maurice thinks with a sigh leaving his lips without permission. Leroi really hit the jackpot.

"Babe, what's up?" Leroi backtracks when he sees Maurice's face contorted into a convex frown. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry if I came late. I was caught up with some stuff and please--"

"What the hell, Leroi, it's just five minutes." Maurice giggles, tucking his hair behind his ear, walking to the passenger seat. He is so annoying, Jesus! "You've got to chill man."

"Okay babe." Leroi gives him a peck, stares at him for a good while. "Are you ready?"

"Of course I am. I've been doing this for straight six years and more." Maurice scoffs. "Stopped counting since they wanted to cut my brains out to see the problem."

Leroi's feet on the petals fails and slips to the brain. The car jerks forward. "Jesus, are you serious?"

"I'm kidding." The electrified look on Leroi makes Maurice burst in a short laughter. "Of fucking course not, this is America where human rights are the only thing we are entitled to. The only things and just because I might turn into some domestic terrorist in the later future doesn't cause the Military to dissect me like cadaver in a medical school lab, all for the sake of national security when nobody knows a Jehovah witness might eventually flip my soul upside down on the path to heaven, except science has taken another step towards homo sapiens extinction and invented an actual crystal ball that actually sees the future, well we'll all be damned sweetheart. Oh I can see the apocalypse already and we'll all die. Maybe except the Resident Evil actress. Oh yeah and Tom Cruise, if he isn't now a washed up suburban dad with seven kids who can't even reply to that Justin Bieber attention-whoring tweet challenging him to a brawl at Central Park."

"I--"

"Love me, that's for sure." Maurice chuckles some more, before sighing, wiping a tear from his eye. "Take that turn and move straight."

Leroi nods, taking the situation in. They're going to see the therapist, one Mrs. Wilkins that Maurice keeps calling Wanda due to the years they've been going with each other. That marks another person that much knows his boyfriend than him, which is really unfair. But Maurice's life is such a bleak cloud, navy blue always echoing thunder and dim lighting flashes. And now at least part of him is dwelling under this cloud.

It's obvious Maurice is nervous about this trip; he shouldn't be since this is how it always is every two weeks, judging from his clenched knuckles oozing so much tension like angry uranium radiation or could it be because Leroi is following him this time. Maurice doesn't still know the extent of Leroi's knowledge and depth into his personal life and history.