Alien Language

 

                “Jesus, Frank,” said Palmer as he ducked under the two by four Frank was swinging over his shoulder. “You almost took my damn head off.”

                 “OMG, sorry right. I’m just all kinds of crazy today I guess,” said Frank as he made a cross-eyed expression and stuck his tongue out in the corner of his mouth.

                 “Um, what,” asked Palmer.

                 “Oh, It’s just like, so crazy for me right now. Like, I’m having a total crisis over my cat’s funeral arrangements, even though my cat is like, so far from ever even dying but I like, want to be prepared for the eventuality of it you know. So, I can’t like, decide if Mister Snicker’s should have a little Kitty coffin or like, get cremated or if maybe I should like, get him stuffed or whatever but I think that might be a little creepy, like, in the corner of my room and I KNOW Brad would just be furious with it,” said Frank.

                 “What…what the hell are you talking about Frank,” asked Palmer. Palmer took his hard hat off and rubbed his forehead.

                 “My cat. Mister Snicker. I know I’ve told you about him before silly,” said Frank.

                 “What... what the hell is going on with you,” asked Palmer. “Yesterday you were talking about UFO’s and how aliens are real and they’ve visited you and took you up to their ship and today you’re talking about cat funeral arrangements?”

                 “Oh come on, I’ve talked about Mister Snicker a bunch of times don’t even lie,” said Frank.

                 “You don’t have a cat Frank,” said Palmer.

                 “What are you talking about Palmer, always loved that name by the way, what…, I totally have a cat,” said Frank.

                 “No, you don’t. And who the hell is Brad,” asked Palmer.

                 “Brad? Oh, he’s my little, you know, friend, I guess. I’m not really sure what we are right now, but I think we’re just trying to stay away from labels, because everyone is so into labels right now. We just want to you know, just hang out in our matching kimono’s, drink tea and just, you know be there for each other, like anyone else would, right,” said Frank.

                 “Frank. You were at the gun range two days ago yelling at the guy behind the counter that you’d tear that earring right out of his ear if he looked at you again,” said Palmer.

                 Frank turned his head to the side and stepped up onto the stack of lumber he and Palmer were unloading.  “That’s not true. I didn’t do that. I’d never do that to another human being. Why would you say that, Palmer? Besides, I’m sure he said something rude to me,” asked Frank.

                 “Dude. You totally yelled at him for like, twenty minutes. You even keyed his car in the parking lot.  It was the most homophobic rant I’ve heard this century,” said Palmer, “I was totally embarrassed to even be there with you. I was dreading even having to work with you again.”

                 “What? No. That’s impossible. I would never do that. I don’t think you’re thinking about the right person at all. Are you okay Palmer?” Frank put his wrist on his hip and looked at Palmer.

                 “I’m the one who’s fine,” said Palmer, “you’re the one doing this, insensitive and frankly offensive over the top gay character for some reason, acting like a total weirdo. I mean, twenty minutes ago you told the foreman that you did his mom last night!”

                 “Yeah, I didn’t do that,” said Frank, as he winked and bit his bottom lip.

                 “And stop with the winking! What the hell is going on,” yelled Palmer.

                 “Oh, be quiet. Hush. You’re the one acting like anything I’m doing is at all weird. If anything, I should be offended by how you’re reacting to who I truly am,” said Frank.

                 “Who you are? Who you are!?! I just saw you grab your dick and spit after Shelly the coffee truck girl turned you down for a date, again, no more than ½ an hour ago. If anyone isn’t acting like themselves it’s you,” said Palmer.   

                 “It was all a charade Palmer. A huge silly bad boy façade hiding who I really was inside. It just felt right to finally be who I am,” said Frank.

                 “It was the Aliens. It was those god damn aliens that did this to you. You were right when you were talking about how weird you felt after seeing those UFO’s,” said Palmer.

                 “Okay, now who is being offensive and insensitive mister,” said Frank, “It wasn’t aliens or anything. This is who I really am. I thought if anyone would understand it would be you.”

                 “Me,” asked Palmer.

                 “Well sure, you’re my best friend,” said Frank.

                 “I didn’t know you thought of us as best friends. I mean I mostly can’t stand being around you because of your frankly, scary conservative beliefs and how you behave when we go out to the bar after work or how you always try to hit on my wife,” said Palmer, “So this, is quite a shock to me.”

                 “Jeannie is a doll and I lover her. I don’t want her, I want her to be my friend too,” said Frank.

                 Palmer scratched his scruffy, stubbly chin. He looked at Frank, now sitting cross legged on top of the pile of lumber. Palmer stood there. Frozen in the moment. Completely unsure of what to do.

                 “C’mon silly. This wood isn’t going to unload itself,” said Frank with a sly snicker.

                 Palmer stepped forward and helped Frank lift up a long board from the pile.

                 “You sure it wasn’t aliens,” asked Palmer.

                 “Yes. It was the aliens,” said Frank, “Sheesh.”

                 “And the other stuff you rant about all the time, the pro-life stuff and right-wing political stuff about tearing down the government, that’s just not who you really are? You don’t really believe that,” asked Palmer.

                 “Oh no, I still believe abortion of any kind is murder and those people who perform that sort if indecency should be, like, burned in the town square and have their families thrown into prison. And I do think the last election was like totally stolen from us and White American Red-Blooded Men are clearly the master race, silly,” said Frank.

                 Palmer stopped in his tracks. “What? How can you believe in that stuff still and be, you know, gay?”

                 “I’m gay Palmer, not an idiot. Open your eyes to the living conspiracy that is life in these United States. Pedophiles are eating babies in basements Palmer. Open your eyes,” said Frank.  

                 “I don’t think I can be your friend Frank,” said Palmer.

                 “Because I’m gay,” said Frank as he stopped walking and dropped the board from his shoulder.

                 “No,” Palmer paused, “I can’t be friends with someone who believes in aliens.”