the eXile - editorial

Issue #10/91, May 25 - June 8, 2000

Our Leeps Are So Close

Come with me, my love. Pay no attention to the rest of this newspaper. It knows nothing of our union. We are—alone at last.

For weeks now I have known no peace in anticipation of this moment. At night I burn with visions of your eyes, your hair, the milk-white of the nape of your fine neck (momentarily revealed at the whim of a playful summer breeze). A thousand times have I turned my head toward the corridor to ask: is that the sound of your skirts rustling? Is it the wheels of your carriage that I hear advancing on the gravel of my drive? Are those your ankles I see huddled under bunched-up pantlegs in the bathroom stall? And each time no, no, no. Until today. Until now.

Come with me, my love, around the corner, and into this narrow space between cubicles. Pay no attention to the clacking sound behind the carpeted cubicle wall. That is merely Shmaltzstein, the new account manager. He has designs on my position but do not fear—he is but a boy to me. One wave of my hand and he is vapor. I am only waiting for the appropriate time to dispose of him. Think not that these precious moments I steal with you could ever be delays in the fulfillment of my destiny. My will is unshakeable, my purpose unswerving. With Shmaltzstein I shall give no ground, while you— you I shall conquer. Yes, conquer—and adore.

No matter how much you may protest, my darling, your eyes betray you. I know why you have been reading this newspaper all these years. You may talk all you want (hiding behind horn-rimmed glasses, standing stiff-backed in your starched wool business suit, briefcase in hand) about staying informed, about reading “Mark Ames”, about seeking advice from the club guide, about keeping attuned to the “Press Review”—but I know why you have really come. You have come for this. For Ricardo’s embrace. For his long, dark Mediterranean locks. You have heard all the stories and now you want to experience the thrill for yourself. You may deceive yourself all you want, but you shall never deceive me. Ricardo knows. Ricardo always knows. He knows what you want. And he has it waiting.

And so at last—I reveal myself to you. Wait a moment now (my belt is stuck) and prepare your eyes for a feast. Pay no attention to the small yellow stain you are about to see. It is not what you imagine it to be. It is Mountain Dew. I spilled it this morning in the copy room. There now, take your pretty little hand and...no, not like that. No, that hurts actually. Wait, you’re caught on something. Hold on...

Now that you have taken me in your hands, I can see that finally you understand. After all those interminable agonies of suspense, you finally comprehend the wonder that is Ric—

Um, actually, if you could, just take your hands away for a second. No, everything’s fine, trust me. No, it’s nothing, I just remembered that I forgot to call, uh...

Oh, fuck it, why lie? My name isn’t Ricardo. I don’t even know Spanish. That’s not my picture. Actually I work for the eXile. And I just came in my pants.

There, I said it. I ejaculated prematurely. Are you happy now? Are you? I’ll be you are. You fucking bitch. Go ahead and read your fucking newspaper. That’s all you deserve anyway.

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