Matt Kaye, my friend and Lance Armstrong have three things in common: lean, muscular frames, they live for their bicycles and they’re both eunuchs.
I told Matt that I don’t think practicing indoors is going to help him win the Tour de France, but he just slammed down his Dr. Pepper and So Co. and said, “Goddammit! Can’t you see I’m trying to balance!? Now, take my picture!”
It was awkward because I’d never been snapped at before. I gave him some leeway due to the drinking and our friendship, but to be completely honest things were getting weird since he’d had his testicles removed.
He gave me a half-hearted apology while we sat on his velvety hunter green couch and discussed the winter scene in the painting above his fireplace.
Matt needed a friend right now and I was there for him. He passed out leaning against my shoulder which I wasn’t comfortable with, so I gently laid his tighty-grey-ied self on the couch, covered him with newspapers, watered his fern and snuck over the side of the balcony.
It was a quiet walk home in the cold dark night… and a lot of questions rolled around in my head which made it impossible to sleep that night.
I stared at the ceiling… Why grey? Why in front of me? Why both balls???
Written by: Stirling Gardner
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