Hello friends. This is kinda gonna be a weird one.
A few days ago, I was talking to a friend about things that we have witnessed that were definitely not meant for anyone’s eyes except the person doing whatever it was. For example, when I was about 12 or 13 years old, I was out in the woods near our house in Balch Springs. There were trails to walk and cool trees to climb. I even made a makeshift club house that I would go to when I needed to get away from the world.
On one of my trips to my hideout, I was in my little bramble of trees reading a book, when I heard someone walking nearby. My “fort” was pretty well hidden and almost completely camouflaged by vines and branches. But I could see out really well, and the guy walking by stopped less than 20 feet from where I was sitting.
It was a guy I recognized; he was our neighbor from down the street. He was kind of a redneck and never spoke or waved to anyone on our street. I remember my mom saying he was kind of an asshole. I was about to say hi, so I didn’t scare him if he saw me, but then he whipped out his wiener and started to masturbate.
I, of course, continued to watch. But it was not what you are thinking: It was not hot. I was not turned on. I was terrified. I thought, “If this country-looking mutherfucker sees me, he is gonna kill me.” Luckily, he was leaning along one of those cool trees that was literally grow-ing sideways (I think the tree nearly fell over years ago but instead rooted in and grew in a way you could climb on the trunk like walking up a hill for about 15 feet), and he had his eyes closed in concentration.
I swear it took him forever to finish, but when he did, he zipped up and was gone. I had never been so relieved in my whole life. I’ve often wondered if that memory would feel different if he was even slightly attractive, but he was not. I felt in my soul that if he saw me, he would have murdered me or at least beat the shit out of my little gay ass.
This next example has stuck with me for years and is one of the strangest things I have ever witnessed. I had finished the show in the old Rose Room and was in our little corner of the beer box storage area that we used as a “dressing room” back when it was the Village Sta-tion. We hung a curtain to give us a little privacy, and I was behind the curtain packing up my drag. It was pretty late; the club had closed and the other queens had already gone home.
I overheard the manager, Chris, tell one of the employees to throw away some stuff in the walk-in cooler, including an old half eaten cake that apparently had been sitting in there since someone’s birthday a few weeks before. The employee was a nice guy — maybe a little vanilla and plain, but always polite and well dressed. I could only see a little bit into the area beyond the curtain. There was about an inch between the curtain and the wall, but I could clearly see him throwing stuff away.
Then he takes out the old cake and sits it on a stool next to the rolling trash can. I see him look around like he was checking to see if anyone was near. Then he proceeded to double fist chunks of the cake into his mouth — like, really stuffing as much as his mouth could hold. His face and hands were covered with dried clumps of pink frosting and crumbs. He looked insane.
I fucking froze in equal parts terror and fascination. I could not completely process what I was seeing. He was Jekyll and Hyde with a sweet tooth. The second the cake was finished; he grabbed a filthy bar towel out of the dirty bin and wiped his face and hands. Then he stood up straight, fixed his collar and pushed the trash can out of the room.
Thank God he did not see me seeing him. I honestly think he might have killed me like he killed that cake, shoved me in the trash can and went about his business. It was horrifying and one of the craziest things I have ever seen. I was freaked out, grossed out and never looked at that guy the same way. He seemed like such a normal, well-put-together guy, but after seeing him fuck up that old cake, I was convinced he was a Dahmer type and would eventually eat us all.
Luckily, he quit a few weeks later. I still see him out every once in a while, and I will wave awkwardly. But I keep my distance. Oh fuck! I hope he doesn’t read this! Just know that if I go missing, y’all betta check his fridge!
Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous! XOXO, Cassie Nova
