From: Jack @ Berlin <email@example.com>
To: firstname.lastname@example.org, email@example.com
Subject: Gift from the Queen
Date: Tue, 22 Jun 1999
Following is a picture Oliver took with his digital camera. It is the Zippo lighter I gave him with a totem pole and "Canada" engraved on the front and his name on the back...
We have finally reconciled as much as we can possibly do as human beings. I decided to give him the two cigarette lighters (one of which he originally wanted to give away as a gift to someone). Instead, he decided to display the engraved lighter with his name on top of his TV, NEVER use it, and use the other plain silver one. He said he wanted to preserve it to remember our times together. *sight*sob*sob*
Last night he dropped by after a weekend of seclusion (excuse: depression and did not want to see anyone; IceQ diagnosis: clinical depression, biologically-based, neurotransmitter imbalance). We sat around at the vacant lot down my street and watched the sky metamorphosed from blue to orange as the sun set against the Berlin TV Tower in the horizon. He said he was sad there were only 5 days left in Berlin for me. Sad? Such emotion is possible from an unflinching, strong & silent type German boy?
Later, we walked to Kollwitzplatz at my insistence since I had never visited this square so adored by political demonstrators in my own neighborhood. On our way there, he stopped by for ice cream that made him reminisce about former East Germany. He bought me some as well. *sigh* Kollwitzplatz was very nice with many small cafes lighting up small crooked streets. I wanted to piss in the park (why not? dogs shit all over the street here) but he stopped me and paid for entrance in one of those fancy, fully-automatic, self-cleaning street bathrooms which I had never been in. He showed me a few local record stores on our way home since Alan had been nagging us about where she could find Madonna treasures.
Once we got to the courtyard of my building, we could see the lights inside my apartment but there were no noises. Did the ever-so-loud FBC felines die from gas poisoning? Did my sister get so annoyed that she killed them both? Or was the Chihuahua still not back from her first romp with a German Shepherd (long story, ask her)?
At the base of the spiraling staircase leading up to my penthouse suite, Oliver told me it was a very nice evening and thanked me for spending royal time with him. I decided to take Nike's motto "Just Do It!" to heart and smooch the boy after many minutes of awkwardness in bidding farewell for the night. I had not done this for awhile since I was having doubts about myself and feeling extremely insecure since the scandal. Was I not good enough thus he had to resort to other rice? I was always initiating. Did he even like my kissing him? Once I got beyond all this mental gymnastic and my poisonous lips touched his virgin lips, he lost all inhibitions and we began to make out. The automatic lights to the staircase went out soon after. We continued our tryst oblivious to the darkness and silence that enveloped us. Suddenly the door to the building swung open and the lights went on!
It was none other than the Chihuahua scurrying back to Melrose Place after her Slutscapade in the alleys of Berlin. She glared at the intertwined lovers and gasped like she does during her sleep. The Ice Queen berated her for returning to the convent so late and ordered her back to her room to chant Hail Marry 2000 times. She accused the IceQ of impropriety in secretly meeting a commoner during such late hours of the night. The boy only blushed and grinned while hiding his face behind his hands. Cruella then swished by us with her Bomb Shelter Survival Pack (dual usage: overnight sex kit) and nearly shoved us into the mailboxes against the wall.
Moments later, the lights went out again and only Cruella's shrieking voice pierced the dark silence. One could hear her chattering away like a hungry mouse detailing to her sister what she just saw downstairs. Suddenly, we heard a loud BANG outside the main door and froze in our tracks. Any moment a skinhead would come through and kill us while we sat like stupid fawns. I quickly pulled the boy along and led him up the stair landing. I sat on the windowsill while he stood in front of me with the moonlight on his face. He said something about Romeo and Juliet and started laughing. I smacked him to his senses and shut him up with my tongue in his mouth. He asked me if the girls were aware of the scandal because he sometimes sensed feline aggression in their presence. I told him they were aware but their opinions did not dictate my behavior. He said he was aware of the difficulties but he had enjoyed our rendezvous every time. The "human factor" was too difficult to ignore.
We thought perhaps the hungry paparazzi inside the penthouse suite might want a blatant display of homo affection. He challenged me but chickened out when I agreed we would storm into the palace and kiss in front of the felines and my sister. Finally after much tongue twister and interrogation from the Ice Queen about why he rarely initiated (he claimed I make him very shy; blasphemy), he walked me up to my apartment. As we stood with the door ajar behind me saying farewell, Cruella suddenly jerked it opened and I nearly fell backward and became a quadriplegic. She glared at us and smirked before returning to her position behind the door to eavesdrop.
We bid farewell and I stepped into a room with glaring cat eyes followed by giggling and giddiness on the part of moi...
Duchess was already armed with her camera to take incriminating photos to blackmail the monarch....