Wet

Jeremy looked down at the toilet after he finished. He really needed to clean it before Robin came to take care of the dog. There were those two nasty little poop specks just on the north side of the drain, after all. Jeremy hiccoughed. The Dubonnet and Gin had taken their effect.

He simply adored the Queen. Jeremy made a special visit to the nursing home on the ninth of September, the day Elizabeth surpassed Victoria’s reign. He knew his mother would be pleased. And why not? They shared a name. Mom had been pleased, so pleased that she expired herself fifteen days later. Yes, Jeremy had cried flowing tears that day, but mixed with a light dose of relief, after so many years of sickness. He treated himself to another Dubonnet and Gin.

Jeremy looked in the mirror. He wished the dermatology medication would wear off. He was getting on, after all, and fifty-two was an overripe age to be single in the gay world. But he certainly couldn’t go out to the bars now, looking like the Joker.

Give it a few weeks, old boy, he told himself – but kicked himself nonetheless. Two weeks after moving back to New York, and this had to happen. He couldn’t even go to the gym, he looked so horrible. What would all the Chelsea Bottoms say?

He flushed the toilet, and the specks disappeared. Robin wouldn’t be grossed out.