Erato, Muse of erotic poetry is reading the scrawl on a university toilet door (Probably misspelt.). -- Knitnan
Gods cling to that which feeds them. What they are responsible for, especially the performative stuff, is also their meat and milk. Thus, you might expect Erato to gain the sickly pallor of the people one expects to find in seedy adult stores, as well as the general doughy body of the assumed clientele. Such is not the case. Erato is healthy, well-traveled, and very, very fit.
Why? Because erotica is not just dicks in the bathroom and skeevy people in trenchcoats with brown paper bags and oily complexions. Because erotica is an international art. Erotica is not just doughy men masturbating to breasts on their computers. It is reams of fanfiction in which true love is found and erections lasting longer than two hours are both possible and merited. It is art of lovingly rendered lovemaking between impossible creatures. It is even in cuddle-fic, where the protagonists do little more than soak in each other's company in front of a fireplace. Cat optional.
It is for all these reasons that Erato is a very attractive being of indeterminate gender and nationality. They are approachable, amenable, and down for whatever. This has caused quite a lot of upset to anyone in their aura. But that doesn't stop them noticing the little things. Like, for instance, this particular dick on the wall of a cubicle in the university that Abe 'Bubba' Jenkins is about to quit.
University is made to open minds. And in that atmosphere, someone with the nickname of 'Bubba' is not supposed to flourish. The rote history, the philosophy of their lives, even the very way they thought the world was meant to work... all of it is challenged by those who seek to teach. Why, he's even met a few people he honestly believes should rot in hell. And worse - they're genuinely nice people until he airs his dirty politics.
Thus, it's quite a shock to find one of Them in his territory, seriously considering a dick he'd just drawn on the wall with the caption, Offended? Get a life!
"Interesting rendering," said That Type. "Most times, I see a distorted bubble of a P with a few crude lines, when they don't leave out the testes altogether." They paused to consider it again. "You've taken some time with this. Rendered the circumcision properly, the pubes... even some veins. You might have some hidden talent."
Bubba reacted as any Bubba might, "You tryin'a hit on me, queer?" and he readied his fists.
The weirdo smiled at them. "Only if you'd like it."
Bubba sank into confusion. Part of him wanted to like it. Part of him wanted to run in screaming terror. The conflict froze him. "Y'ain't convertin' me, queer."
"My name is Erato. And I promise that I'm only appreciating your work. If you want me, you're going to have to work for it."
Huh? This... this was not how the script was meant to go. "You what?"
"You're at a crossroads, Mr Jenkins. A time in your life when your choices can drastically change your path. You're between futures and this," Erato tapped the drawing on the wall, "has caught my interest."
"...'s just a dick," said Bubba. "I was sick an' tired of all the politically correct bullshit flyin' around and I did a thing before taking a shit. No big deal."
"Politically correct..." echoed Erato. "Two words that mean 'deliberately being nice to people'. Do you not like being deliberately nice to people?"
Er... Abe felt the redness invading his face. "But it ain't proper. You got girls wanting to be guys and guys wanting to be girls. A-and both want to fuck each other 'n'... it ain't the way it's s'posed'a be."
"And what is all that to you?" asked Erato. "None of them want to... 'fuck' you."
"But they could? They could sneak up on me when I'm taking a piss or something an' try to convert me."
Erato laughed. "Never in my life have I met anyone who was seduced by rape. It's a preposterous fantasy. That anyone could give freely what was taken in violence. No. You will note that we have been amiably chatting with our pants on in a bathroom for... some minutes, and all I've done is admire your rendering." A gesture to the doodle on the wall. "The world isn't what you think it is, Mr Jenkins. You should try new thoughts."
Erato blew him a kiss on their way out. "Be watching you."
Abe washed his hands three times before emerging into the outside. A lot quieter than his usual politics demanded. It was as if the scales had fallen from his eyes. Instead of focusing on the homos cramming their lifestyle choices down his throat, he saw couples in love holding hands. Only a small percentage of them actually made him angry enough to say anything about it.
He didn't see miscegenation. He saw people in love. And none of them were focussed on him. At all. He saw... himself. An ugly young white man in a Make America Great Again cap and a rebel flag wife beater and a belt buckle that said Bitches get stitches! and then had the nerve to wonder why people at all and women in particular didn't want to talk to him.
He thought about the twenty minutes he'd spent drawing that dick on the wall. How he'd felt about getting it right before adding the unnecessary caption.
Abe stood in the middle of the campus pathway and actually thought about things. About how his life had been cemented in certainties when it was really adrift in an ocean of doubt. About how he could learn to swim in that or sink like a brick.
He walked to the administration building and asked to speak to someone about changing his major. He didn't like Business Principals and he certainly didn't like Pre-Legal. He decided to change it to art. People made shitloads off of drawing dicks properly. In the right circles.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / andrr]
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