Brad And Chris Neighbor Luke Couldnt Wait Until He Couldnt See. Those Hair Supplements Becky Gave Him

Brad and Chris’ neighbor Luke couldn’t wait until he couldn’t see. Those hair supplements Becky gave him were really kicking in …AND where he wanted them to.

One never can be 100% sure with the under the counter stuff, but when it came to things like fashion, gender expression, and pharmaceuticals risks had to be made.

To all that, Luke needed Brad and Chris back on back patrol for just one more week. The Epilady was on call as an extra precaution.

Full coverage swimwear for Chris was like a bouquet of hydrangea to Madonna. Sooooooo not on but brand adjacent.

Well, that was that then. Brad had himself a New Years Resolution. His resolution was to not have a resolution for the year that was new in the moment where he was. That was on the beach in Santa Monica at the end of 2023.

While he was there staring into 2024, he was also giving up lent for lent, and trading in Columbus Day for an Akron knight. He would just need to convince Elton John to take a holiday to Ohio in October. It was a good thing leaves died pretty. He could use that to his advantage.

If that didn’t work out, Brad would try a different time of day. Akron Dawn for example could score an obvious sponsorship assuming people in Ohio did their dishes upon waking up. It sounded like something people in sensibly sized Midwest cities might do.

The notion never crossed his mind in Brad’s 22 years living in Los Angeles. Why would anyone born and bred in Southern California ground themselves where it could crack open and swallow you whole at any second? Midwestern sensibility just didn’t stack up here.

Akron was in Ohio right? Brad could never be sure even with a smart phone in his hand. Miss Information was everywhere and there were no places to hide. How would you know where to go anyway?

All the cities in Ohio looked exactly the same to Brad. You could be in Toledo or Cincinnati, and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference even if you were at the local library checking out books. As long as ‘Ohio’ was somewhere on your library card or drivers license, you were golden.

At least that’s what Brad imagined. The locals likely didn’t feel the same way.

On the eve of a change in one of many calendars used across the globe, Brad took a minute reflect upon what had yet to happen by asking questions in the present tense.

Did all the oceans in California look the same to people from Ohio? Those from the two bucks an eye state (post inflation), were human beings dealing with a relative relative spendy reality. That part was clear. The rest of it got fuzzy as he didn’t know anyone from Ohio he could ask.

Brad wasn’t sure how many oceans he was looking at in the first place. They all kinda mixed together with few if any official boundaries. To call the water in front of him by one name took it from Will Rogers in Cali all the way to Bondi in Australia, but it was hardly the same water. The whole thing read as a gross over generalization as everything Pacific.

Each day it was less and less surprising to Brad that more than 90% of the sea floor failed to be mapped. We as a species held not a clue as to what was down there yet some of us were already taking tours of outer space which was technically nothing itself. Was that not why we called it space?

Whatever.

Brad didn’t want to put too much into space tourism or an overrated holiday like NYE, or even Christmas for that matter…

Brad stopped himself there. If he took that thought any further he could start getting answers. That could take him into resolution territory where he resolved to not go yet already was.

The annual practice never played out well for Brad despite being out himself. While others made money Brad beat himself up. By the President’s Day circuit party he was always in a downward spiral. If Brad ever OD’d it would likely be there smack dab in the depths of the Southern California rainy season swallowed whole by the first round of judgement preliminaries for White Party in Palm Springs.

Seeing where he was, Brad pulled himself off the bitter party of one path to that of personal responsibility. No one besides himself stuck around any NYE resolution to ensure he followed through. It may be paid for but did it matter where the money came from? While the commitment was squarely his, it often turned out the enthusiasm was not.

Brad paused to fix the back of his swimmers. They began riding his youthful 22 year old butt muscles while doing all this thinking. Did he really workout every day just so his clothes could malfunction?

Maybe. He could def take the notion somewhere sexy. Too bad there wasn’t a pen and paper around. Was this why people wrote their name in the sand? That whole notion read downright silly standing so close to the world’s biggest eraser.

When all was said and done, the greatest part about having a perky butt wasn’t sex or attention. It was having a place to set things down where no pockets were available. Brad always offered the space to others where he could think enough to do so. Ironically, the last thing he wanted to be was an ass.

The notion spurred another thought. Brad would ask Chris to look for a date on his butt when he came back from the concession stand with lunch. All this male beauty comes with a shelf life apparently so his boyfriend should probably know when to stop eating it. To that, and out of respect for himself, he should probably check Chris’ butt too. Brad needed some action and the whole notion just brought forth was good enough to jumpstart a very fun afternoon.

These things only needed to be paper thin with two men in the equation. An impromptu hamster inspection of the men’s locker room at the local gay watering hole instigated a wild three way with Brad and Chris’s neighbor Luke just a few hours earlier. Unsurprisingly, not a single hamster turned up at the gym, but the whole debacle did put a new spin on wood shavings.

A rouge wave reached high enough to grab Brad’s attention and bring him back to the present tense. Brad looked at his phone but he didn’t have any gauge as to when he and his thinking drifted off. Well, at least he came around this time with his swimmers still on. He lost two pair just in the last 24 hours.

Now where was Chris with the food? Brad was craving curly fries and a big fat dill pickle.

Chris couldn't possibly have one more mimosa... but since his boyfriend Brad was offering, he liked the first one the best. It had that cute little sliced strawberry thingy on top. Maybe it was spiked w/vodka... Just maybe. Ask Becky if she's still standing.

She wasn’t.

The ‘fake it until you make it' thing in America never sat right with Chris as there was always the chance that the people who said you made it were doing the same thing.

To decompress from Sebastian’s crab infested fashion shoot, Brad slipped into his Y2K Baywatch cosplay per Becky’s suggestion. It always put Brad in a good mood and Becky had a thing for time pieces.

What Brad couldn’t get past was why he was hired to model the ill designed lobster jacket and not his boyfriend Chris. One would think a photographer named Sebastian would hire a model under the ‘C’.

Catching a healthy dose of A-tude in the sails, Becky pointed out that Brad was being a ‘B.’ It took one to know one so…

That’s when Chris shouted, “And scene”from the half bath adding the three should really consider dumping seafood altogether. He couldn’t make it past the front hall half bath after grabbing Captain D’s.

Brad and Becky agreed things didn’t need to progress down the line any further. The use of E was dropped somewhere after the millennium and before the drop of Madonna's MDNA album. Chris then added Molly seemed to be holding on as the go to term diving into this whole rave culture redo.

Brad and Becky found Chris' comment about as insightful as those of a field reporter on the local news.