Your Father Is Gay

— Hello.

— Hi, is this Gabriel?

— Yes. Who is this?

— Jake.

— Jake?

— Yeah.

— Jake who?

— Jake from the grocery store. 

— Grocery store? What grocery store?

— The one down the road.

— Jake… do I know you?

— I know your father.

— You know my father? What’s this about?

— Your father is gay.

— Excuse me?

— Your father is gay.

— I heard you the first time.

— OK.

— You called me to tell me that my father is gay? Is this a joke? Who are you?

— I’m Jake.

— Look buddy, I’m going to hang up. My father is not gay.

— Yes he is. I saw him blowing a homeless guy behind a dumpster.

— Wha… what is this?

— Your father is gay because he did that.

— You’re a fucking moron. Do you really expect me to believe you?

— I’m just telling you what happened.

— And why are you telling me this, huh? You want something from me?

— No. I thought that maybe you’d like to know. You can do whatever you want with this information.

— OK, I’ve had enough. My father is happily married to my mother for 35 years; he’s a tenured professor; he’s a well-known, respectable man who is beloved in the community – and fuck you for lying about him like that to me over the phone. How dare you!

— I’m not lying. I know him pretty well. I was shocked to see him blowing that black guy behind that dumpster.

— Stop it. Black guy, really?

— Yes. He was sucking homeless black cock when I saw him.

— Go to hell!

— He saw me too.

— Uh… who? My father saw you?

— Yes. He looked at me surprised, blinked twice, then went back to sucking cock.

— This conversation is over.

— He had cum dripping from his mouth.

— Enough! Go fuck yourself you sick fuck! And don’t call this number again, you hear me? I’ll talk to my father and I swear, if this is some kind of—

— You can’t. He’s dead.

— What?

— Your father is dead. I shot him.

— You shot my father?!

— Yes. I shot him with a rifle. That type of behavior is unacceptable.


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