Our dollar-bill contest has a winner!
Among the many excellent entries people sent in for the contest, the audience favorite was written by the Faggoty-Ass Faggot, who is now the lucky recipient of a gift certificate to Powell’s City of Books. Here is his entry, after which I will reveal the truth behind the mystery.
Faustus and E.S. recently closed on their new home together. Because of taxes and fees, the final purchase price was an odd number. Rather than splitting the costs down the middle, resulting in a number that included cents, Faustus generously agreed that he would round his half up to the nearest dollar, and E.S. would round his down. The difference being a single dollar.
At the closing, just before both lads signed away their lives and fortunes, E.S. suddenly had a revelation. Faustus was not being generous, he was using the tactic to gain the upper hand! He would forever get his way because he would own just more than half of the house.
E.S. dug in his pocket, found a lone dollar bill, and handed it Faustus.
“You’re a sneaky little bastard,” he said. “And if you ever think I’m topping you again, you’ll take my dollar and never speak of this again.”
The transaction went off without further hitch.
I must say [Faustus here again] that I hadn’t actually considered this brilliant plan. We haven’t closed on the house yet, however, and so I suspect that E.S. will soon be finding himself a dollar richer than he expects but a tiny fraction of a house poorer.
In any event, the true story of the dollar bill is a long and sordid one, but I will boil it down to its essentials.
I have become a go-go dancer.
The dollar was the first dollar bill a strange man ever shoved down my underwear. It was not, however, the last.
I used to be fat and unpopular, and now men are paying me for the privilege of touching my penis.
For those of you in the New York City area, I’ll be dancing at Splash this Wednesday, from 11:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m.
The last time I was awake at 3:00 a.m. of my own volition was in 1998, so this stint may not go on for very long. But I intend to enjoy it while it lasts.
I find it hard to believe that you, with the washboard abs, were ever fat. And even harder still that you were unpopular!
I completely believe, however, that strange men give you a dollar for the privilege of touching your whoopsidaisy. If I were in New York, I’d plop a bill or two in your tighty-whities.
Hmmm. I know a go-go boy. That may make me the coolest person in my office. That’s totally cooler than the person whose dog can fart on command.
Spend the dollars wisely Boychick.
Acclaimed aerobics instructor. Brilliant blogger. Celebrated composer. And now go-go dancer? One can only imagine the career objective on your resume with the list of “professional” experience you are accumulating. And as luck would have it, I arrive in NYC on business Wed for several days. So if you see a 6’6″ tall out-of-place Hoosier … that will be me.
Congrats to the winner.
There is no end to your manifold talents, is there? And I just found out that my rehearsal for Wednesday has been cancelled. I may have to stock up on dollar bills.
Haha! Nice! I was wondering when we were going to hear about your go-go dancing after reading about it on go-go-boy’s blog.
God. I bet you did this just in case anyone was going to challenge you for the title of Gayest Gay Ever, what with the musicals and the aerobics and the hot butt sex.
Oh. My. GOD. I am not sure I can be up until 11:00pm… on a Wednesday no doubt.
Question: does the boyfriend know?
Because the main thing that would prevent me from being a go-go boy is the fact that my boyfriend might murder me. That, and this pesky gut. And the vertigo. Otherwise, I’m jealous.
You’re the perfect combination of nerd and hottie. How do you stand yourself?
I mean, really. It’s almost impossible to like you.
We’ll be scheduling our next trip to New York around your go-go schedule.
To quote tim: Oh. My. GOD. I guessed right with the go-go story (sort of). I swear I didn’t read go-go-boy’s blog. I swear I’ve never stuffed bills down Faustus’s underwear. I will admit that I saw that first multi-bill photo, but the whole go-go scenario was just a fantasy, …or rather …a creative inspiration I had. Faustus, please keep the gig long enough for us to appreciate this new facet you have shown (or will) show us.