God Loves You

That’s what Russell’s latest comment photo says with a big blue cross. It’s right above the “Thanks for the Add” he received from Matt in Peoria of a naked hunk covering his crotch with a bouquet of red roses.

Sorry, Lord, nothing personal but the sexy flower guy wins. No contest.

And that’s when they begin fucking. Jason generously giving; Tucker happily receiving with boisterous cries of bliss for the entire street to enjoy. The boy’s just very vocal. Nothing wrong with that. He’s only expressing his pleasure, which is quite flattering for the one who’s making him feel so good.

Oh oh oh oh oh—oh God—oh oh oh oh oh—oh my God—oh oh oh—

The doorbell then rings, interrupting his hypnotic trance while listening to the young lovers in his guesthouse.

“Hi, Russell, just wanted to invite you to a party,” Claire Cavanaugh tells him as she hands him a bright green flyer with a photo of the late Charles Nelson Reilly and Brett Somers (both of whom sadly passed away last year):

Don’t be a Dumb Dora and miss Seth and Adam’s Housewarming/Adam’s 29th Birthday Party! Dress as your favorite Match Game celebrity and get ready to match the stars!

“I know, it’s not Halloween—but this is what the birthday boy wants,” his neighbor explains, which he realizes must be in response to the surprised look on his face. “I guess Adam is a big game show buff.”

“Many of us are,” he informs the young woman. “I simply adore Match Game.”

“Well, I guess I better rush right home and watch that DVD of the show that the boys gave me,” she giggles.

Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh God yes, oh yeah, oh God, yes yes yes . . .

A wide-eyed Claire glances next door and then smiles at Russell, who grins back and shrugs: “Boys will be boys.”

She giggles again: “They sound kind of busy so I won’t bother them now.”

“I’ll be happy to give them a flyer later,” he offers.
“Yoo hoo! Hello there!”

Adelle Frish now joins them on the front steps with a Saran-wrapped plate of brownies as Tucker’s enthusiasm enters its final phase.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, OHHH GODDDD!

The three neighbors are speechless for a few moments until Adelle says with knowing smile: “So nice to hear young people who still believe in prayer.”

“I could use some of that religion myself,” Russell adds with a wink, causing Mrs. Frish to erupt with laughter.

“Oh, you’re terrible,” she tells him with a slap on the arm before tapping the many campaign buttons upon her own coat. “So what do you think of our comeback girl today? Pretty impressive, huh? She’s kicking ass and taking names all the way to the White House.”

“Bitches get stuff done,” Russell repeats Tina Fey’s fabulous line from her recent appearance on Saturday Night Live (which he hasn’t watched regularly since the days of Mike Myers and Dana Carvey—but he loves Ms. Fey on 30 Rock).

“Oh, Hillary’s not a bitch. She’s just ambitious. You go, girl!”

Adelle then high-fives Russell over their Democratic candidate’s thrilling primary wins from the night before.

“I think she’s kind of a bitch.” Both of Claire’s neighbors look at her in surprise as she continues: “When she said that she and McCain are both more qualified to be President than Obama, who’s just a speech from 2002, that sounded rather bitchy to me.”

After a few moments of extremely uncomfortable silence, Mrs. Frish smiles sweetly at the young woman and says: “My dear, sometimes the truth hurts—but it’s gotta be said.”

“Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion,” Mrs. Cavanaugh curtly says as she hands a flyer to Adelle. “Hope you both can make it.”

“Oh, a party! Count me in, honey!” Mrs. Frish calls after the departing Claire before whispering to Russell: “I bet you she’s an Obama girl, the poor deluded thing.”

“Who are the brownies for?” he now asks to change the subject.

“Oh, they were for our dear neighbor Edna—to cheer her up since Huckleberry Hound dropped out of the race,” the woman explains, switching their conversation back to politics. “I know she’s home, but the bitter old bag refuses to come to the door. So here—enjoy.”

“Thanks,” Russell says as she thrusts the plate of sweets into his hands.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

They then notice the bare-chested young man smoking a cigarette in the doorway of the guesthouse.

“Spring is definitely in the air,” he tells them.

“You’re going to catch your death of cold parading around like that, mister,” Mrs. Frish scolds Tucker, who just exhales and smiles before returning inside.

Minutes later—after bidding adieu to Adelle—Russell finds himself back inside in front of the computer, staring once again at the flickering blue cross from his gorgeous new MySpace friend, Danny in Dallas, whom he has sadly discovered is not just a fan of Bette Davis, Johnny Depp, Fat Elvis and God. Under his list of “Heroes”, he states: “My number one hero by far is Ronald Reagan, the man who made us proud to be Americans. My number two is George Dubya Bush, a great leader who saw us through America’s toughest times. I am proud to have him as my President.”

He’s definitely a number two, Russell thinks before he says goodbye to the delicious yet deranged Danny and clicks the delete button.

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh—oh God—

And as the boys begin an encore of “Afternoon Delight”, Russell Vandercar adds a Hillary for President banner to his page to show he would be mighty proud to have a bitch as his President.

To be continued . . .

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