My twelfth annual improvised Christmas story. (The first nine were about Spot, #10 and #11 were about Einstein.)

Spot's Tenth First Christmas

-- or --

QUEER EYE FOR THE SPOT GUY

A wacky romp involving terrifying accurate stereotypes

written Christmas Eve, 2003
Copyright (C) 2003 James "Kibo" Parry

"Ding dong," said Spot's boring, fiercely heterosexual doorbell. Spot got up from his plain ordinary heterosexual armchair and walked across his completely heterosexual foyer to open his house's bland, entirely heterosexual door. There were five allegedly fabulous gay guys there!

"Hello, Spot," said the one who looked like Peter Davison with Bob Hope's nose, "We're the Fab Five and you're on tonight's episode of 'Queer Eye For The Straight Dog'."

"Wow!" said Spot, "This is the greatest honor I've ever received -- I've been called 'straight' on TV!"

"And, Spot, we're going to cure you of that nasty homophobia by rearranging your furniture and cutting your hair. Suddenly all your gay friends will stop just pretending to be attracted to you."

"WOW!" yelled Spot, who expressed excitement through repetition.

The Fab Five introduced themselves. There was Carson, who looked like Peter Davison With A Special Nose, and Ted, who did not have human emotions about anything other than wine, and Jai, who was the token Hispanic guy except in the one episode where he was played by a token black guy to keep the show from being even whiter than "Seinfeld", and there were two others whose names Spot couldn't remember so let's just say they were a guy with mechanical claws for hands, and Hawk from the old "Buck Rogers" show.

"Let's get started!" said Claw Guy, as they set about throwing out everything Spot owned that couldn't be made fabulous. They began using the word "product" in every sentence, and kept talking about the "color story" of all of Spot's products.

Jai went straight for Spot's collection of classic record albums and pulled out a "Firesign Theatre" album, then rubbed it in a very special way to turn it into a "Fierstein Theatre" recording of Harvey Fierstein having phone sex with Tom Carvel. "Eww!" screamed Spot, "I thought you guys were supposed to be making me LESS homophobic!"

"I think you need the full cure," said Hawk, "right, boys?" The five of them lunged at Spot and stuffed him into a moldy old mail sack which they tossed in the back of their unmarked black van and drove away.

Jai whispered in Ted's ear, "Oh, Ted, are you sure we have space to keep another straight in our dungeon?"

"We can always put in a mirror to make it look bigger."

The Fab Five all laughed at Ted's hilarious joke about how straight people always think that you can put in a mirror to make a room look bigger. Then, while they were stuck in traffic for the next six hours, they mocked the way straight men shave. Of course, during those six hours, they each got five o'clock shadow (except for Carson, who was too blond to grow facial hair, and Hawk, who had feathers instead) so they got out their special male versions of Lady Remington razors and trimmed away their stubble, always moving the razor in the most efficient gay shaving pattern (alternating knight's moves and boustrophedonic fractals, while keeping the pinkie finger sticking out.)

When they got to the "Queer Eye" dungeon, Spot was released from the sack, and he was surprised to discover they had somehow given him several hickies through the burlap.

"Which leather straitjacket should we put him in?" asked Jai, "The black one with the black paisley, or the black one with the black polka dots?"

Carson said it didn't matter, as long as it was tight enough to make it physically impossible for him not to turn gay. So, they put one straitjacket on his front paws and the other on his back paws. Then they wrapped him in flypaper and Christmas tinsel and hung him upside-down over a hot stove.

Spot yelled, "Hey! Is THIS really what gay guys always do behind closed doors in groups of five?"

"Yes, Spot," said Ted without looking up from the wine label he had been reading for the past hour, "This is the only thing gay guys ever do."

"Wow! I have been sadly misinformed about the activities of your organization, which are weirder than I thought but not icky in any way, shape or form!"

"Now hold still, Spot, so we can tape these electrodes to your eyeballs..."

"This feels great! I never knew the Stockholm Syndrome could be so enjoyable, and (bzzt) YAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!!"

Then, the Fab Five further humiliated Spot by treating him like a human. They made him walk around upright, sleep outside of a cage, and eat high-quality beef with a knife and fork.

By now, Hawk and Claw Man had completed drawing their giant wall map of Spot's erogenous zones, and had located all 68,327 of them, including the one which made his leg rotate in circles when rubbed, and the one which made his leg detach and fly around the room in loop-the-loops. Spot's training was now complete, and he was just as gay as he could get in this story!

"YAY!" squealed Spot as he used the letter "Y" as a gay vowel, "I AM EVER SO GAYYYYYYY! (bzzt) YAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!!"

Now that Spot was totally gay, it was time for his dinner break (wine, cilantro, and bruschetta served off the body of Andy Dick.) Then they put him in the sack again and drove him back to his house to see the fabulous makeover they had somehow given it while they weren't anywhere near it.

Spot marvelled at how different the "before" and "after" pictures were. The "before" version of the room was dingy and cramped, while the "after" version was colorful and spacious! "Hey, wait a minute!" yelled Spot, "All you guys did was to lower the camera, turn on the lights, and smear Vaseline on the lens! 'Queer Eye For The Straight Guy' is RIGGED! You guys are ruining gayness for gay dogs like me!" Spot ran out of his faux-fabulous apartment to escape from the gay fraud!

He ran and ran while Carson, Ted, Jai, Claw Man, and Hawk chased him, but he escaped by running down the frozen seafood aisle of the local supermarket, and all the gay guys were distracted by a sign that said "SHRIMP POPPERS". Spot got away while they were cramming fried shrimp up their noses. (Carson got seven up there.)

Spot had a problem. He was completely gay, but he now realized that all this "gay" stuff had been invented by the cable TV networks just to trick straight people into watching boring shows about fake redecorations accomplished through camera tricks! Because there was not really such a thing as being gay, Spot was very sad about being gay, and vowed to get his old homophobia back.

He went home and tried to de-gay his house by hosing it down with beer (because gay guys drink 3,851 different kinds of wine but never beer.) He tried to straighten himself out by watching the straightest TV show he could find in order to undo the effects of "Queer Eye". But the only other show that was on was "Star Trek", which was just for lesbians.

Spot cried! "WAAH! I'M TOO GAY!"

Then he remembered that he still had electrodes attached to various body parts. That gave him a great idea! He could give himself electroshock while looking at extreme gay porn, and after a few hours of that, he'd be cured of his total gayness! Spot went over to Gaytown (the suburb which took up precisely 10% of the city) and bought all the gay porn he could afford, then spread it out on his floor and prepared to shock the gay vibes out of his tender body.

He stared at a centerfold of Scott Thompson exploring the inside of Dave Foley and gave himself shock after shock, but it wasn't working! And worse, the shocks kept erasing the part of his brain that was supposed to be remembering this was supposed to be a Christmas adventure! Spot cried! "Waah! I'm too gay to have a Christmas adventure!"

"Ding dong!" said Spot's sexually-confused doorbell. "Ding dong! Ding dong, dearie!"

Spot got out of his ambiguous armchair, trotted across his home's latent threshold, and opened the vague door to see his neighbor, Albert Einstein, standing there in a Santa suit.

It was made entirely from transparent latex!

"WAAH!" cried Spot, "I DIDN'T ORDER A GAY EINSTEIN!"

"It's okay, Spot. My equations prove that gayness is just another dimension. You got your north, your south, your east, your west, and you're gay."

"Huh?" asked Spot, because dogs can't hear apostrophes. Then Einstein kissed him.

"EWW!" yelled Spot, "EINSTEIN GERMS!!!"

It was Spot's gayest Christmas ever! Of course, it didn't compare to the Valentine's Day he spent in Charles Nelson Reilly's bathyscaphe, but that's another story.

THE END.

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