The Ultimate Emo Crossover

Paula Deen x Martha Stewart

Pst.

Psssst!

Over here!

Remember me? It's Elliot. I've been hiding away in Sebastian's closet for the past fourteen hours, wide awake, trying to gather more information for the novel. I've been taking uppers (cocaine, methamphetamines) in order to stay awake.

Yes, I saw everything. There was actually another sex bit that occurred later that same night, but I chose not to include it because I was exhausted, in all honesty! I felt as if I was watching Tommy Wiseau's The Room. Back to back sex scenes, right from the beginning.

It just made a man go insane!

As they slept, I peered through the door crack, keeping an eye to search for any sudden movements, any implications as to WHY THIS MAN PARTED THE SEA?? MY GOD, IT'S LIKE EVERYONE'S FORGOTTEN THAT EVER HAPPENED! ARE WE STILL NOT GOING TO ADDRESS THAT?

I felt as if I was being gaslit by the two; psychologically tortured with the erasure of what had happened--and the incessant anal sex.

Not to mention the smell of this very closet. I questioned why I was still here, 6AM, 36 years old, surrounded by crusty ejaculatory stained shirts (hung back up!), crusty ejaculatory socks, five rifles, two AK's, and a gold-mine stash of Yu-Gi-Oh! playing cards, hidden away in a chest he didn't want anyone to see.

Oho!

I must have looked so peculiar standing there, 6'4", my sculpture-like face two inches from the door, in my colonial jacket, hair down to my waist. Usually my hair was always flowing, wind or not, but here, it was completely lifeless, contained in this axe-sauna. The boy washed his shirts with it! That's why the semen stains remained, he just sprayed over them!

It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, so alas, my brain's way of coping with the fumes was to begin hallucinating.

So there I was, flirting with the idea of death, as I watched Sebastian change while Andy turned himself around to give him privacy like a gentleman. No wonder the boy didn't want Andy seeing his ass! The amount of acne brought a tear to my eye.

But in my state, I began hallucinating him as Paula Deen, my hero. I nearly waltzed out to show off my dance move to her (I only had one--the two-step) like a peacock in heat.

I was sent into a trilogy consisting of Paula and I, rubbing semi-melted butter all over each other's naked skin. When Martha Stewart walked in through the door, I nearly dropped my respectable demeanor all at once, except another hit of axe, this time from Sebastian a few feet away, snapped me out of it and into another fantasy, in which I was R Kelly from his Trapped in the Closet rap opera.

...I'm stretching and yawning in a bed that don't belong to me. Then a voice yells "good morning darling" from the bathroom, then she comes out and kisses me and to my surprise she ain't you...here I am quickly trying to put ON MY CLOHOHOHTHES.

And now Paula's back, laying in bed next to Martha! They're getting rather frisky, and my, I think I'm the happiest I've ever been. I'm not the kind, really, to do this kind of thing, but...I quietly unbuckle my belt.

Another whiff of axe blows through the closet crack, permanently waking me from my humiliating state. Paula and Martha rather quickly morph back into Sebastian and Andy.

I stand limply, looking down at myself in disbelief. Never have I ever...and like Andy, I have a mirror too--and with all respect to him, I'm a bit more classically handsome than the man! Still, I have refrained.

By god, what were these boys doing to me?

And now I'm in this darkest closet trying to figure out, how to get my crazy ass up out this houououse.

I admit, I was genuinely into the R Kelly bit. I was considering braiding my hair the way his was always done--like a white girl on her first trip to Jamaica. I whisper the rest of the lyrics to myself whilst I think.

Seeing that the sun is up, several hours have flown by since I arrived. Now it was morning, and I could hear Andy next door in the bathroom, explaining what had happened to him prior to meeting Sebastian.

I find myself taking an immediate liking to Hayley. Whomever this man was, I admired his take-charge attitude.

And that Dahvie Vanity, goodness!

But it was when Andy began talking about the young girl, Audrey, that I realized I really do be needing to get up out of this closet.

Apologies.

I must have gotten a glisten in my eyes just then--or maybe or was the axe fumes, but I'm telling you, I lit up! This Audrey would serve as the perfect subject to interview for my novel. She must have some of that insider information only groupies have. Has this man ever wore sockless Birkenstocks? Turned any breakroom tap water into wine? Ruminating on the idea of growing out his facial hair?

THIS MAN WAS THE SECOND COMING AND I WAS DETERMINED TO PROVE IT!

With the two in the bathroom, I stumble out of the closet, gasping for air, only to inhale more axe. I restrain myself from coughing, and, straightening up, smoothing out my jacket, I make for the window, draw one leg over the frame, then sit there, looking back at the room before I go.

I nod.

Yes, I might be semi-homeless, my house only half the size of Sebastian's room, but I'd take my shit bucket over his semen riddled, mentally unstable drywall disaster any day.

I say a toast to Paula Deen, thanking her for my first erection in years! I felt myself entering into a new phase in life, one in which I felt unsteady. One in which I was unsure. One in which drag might be a possibility. One in which I may have to do some risky deeds for money.

I flirt with the idea of going undercover in Martha Stewart drag to gather inside info, while acknowledging it probably wouldn't be at all necessary.

I swing my other leg over the window and jump.