Page 32 of Nearly Roadkill: Queer Love on the Run

Scratch: We’re not running. We’re living. Don’t you get that? Why does that bother you guys so much?

Ms. Budge: Your life is starting to run mine, and that bothers me.

Scratch: I’m so sorry.

Ms. Budge: Come on in, Scratch. Bring Winc with you. I’ll get you a fair deal.

Scratch: A fair fucking deal for what? We did nothing wrong!

Ms. Budge: My point, exactly!

Budge cringes at the burst of honesty, cursing himself for typing it.

Scratch: If you know we did nothing wrong, then stop the chase.

Again, he has no answer.

Ms. Budge: Look, this thing has gotten a lot bigger than you and me.

Scratch: Uh huh.

Ms. Budge: And if I don’t bring you in, someone a lot nastier is going to.

Ms. Budge: That’s a fact.

Scratch: They’re gonna “bring you in” too.

Ms. Budge: Huh?

Scratch: If it’s bigger than us, then you’re a flunky.

There is another pause at Budge’s end.

Scratch: ::softly:: You don’t even believe in what “the law” is doing this time, do you?

Ms. Budge: I believe in justice. You broke the law with those codes. You’re breaking the law by evading arrest, and you broke the law by refusing to Register.

Scratch: You chickened out, bub. I was never told, to my face, that I was wanted. I never evaded anything. So why bother, dear?

Ms. Budge: Why bother with what?

Scratch: Don’t you think the Reg process is just a wee bit inadequate? Considering that you are currently trapped in a female identity?!

Ms. Budge: I told you to cut that out. Of course it’s flawed. But if the laws fall apart, there’s going to be a lot of people hurting a lot of others.

Scratch: Oh, don’t give me that law crap. I can tell you have a bigger brain than that.

Ms. Budge: Gee, thanks.

Scratch: Well, that’s a pretty big flaw, getting your identity “wrong.” You know when they check your office accounts they’ll report your female profile? And send you the “appropriate” mail?

Ms. Budge: I know. You should *see* the ads I’m getting.

Scratch: ::sweetly:: I bet.

Ms. Budge: Tell me this. Since you don’t like that neighbor of yours. Why don’t you just shoot him? Fuck the law, right?

Scratch: Jesus fucking christ! How much of my mail do you read?

Ms. Budge: All of it… dear.

Scratch: You fucker.

Ms. Budge: I don’t like it, but it’s going to get worse if you don’t cooperate.

Scratch: You motherfucker pervert, reading other people’s mail…

Ms. Budge: Grow up, Scratch, you’re in the big sandbox now. It’s the only way to find you.

Splattered , Budge thinks to himself. That’s the word he’s heard about this kind of online chat. I’m splattered .

Scratch: Look, let’s cut the crap, OK?

Ms. Budge: Winc is going to crack faster than you, and he’ll bring you with him.

Scratch: You don’t know shit about Winc, it’s obvious.

Ms. Budge: I know more about Winc than you’d like to hear.

Scratch: ::waving hand impatiently:: You want me to fill in the blanks.

But filling in blanks just creates more rigidity.

More ways for people to become “illegal.” Those rules and categories turn into a juggernaut, hammering over people like me.

Forcing genders, forcing identities, forcing Registration.

And ultimately? That juggernaut runs right over you, too, my friend. The only ones left will be pod people.

Ms. Budge: What are you talking about?

Scratch: To follow a law just because it’s a law is not good enough.

Ms. Budge: I don’t give a fuck whether you Register or not…

Scratch: All I did was refuse to Register. And now you say you don’t give a fuck?

Ms. Budge: I AM NOT DISAGREEING WITH YOU!

Scratch: Huh?

Ms. Budge: I’m not saying what you’re doing is right or wrong. I’m saying right now it’s against the law. And it won’t be cops judging you, it’ll be a jury of your peers.

Scratch: My peers are too fucking scared of people like you.

Ms. Budge: I know, and I really wish to hell you weren’t scared of me.

Scratch: You know what? I’m *not* scared of you anymore. It’s liberating as hell. Maybe it’s because you’re less threatening as a “woman”!

If Budge could type what his own sputtering sounds like, he would. The thought crosses his mind to send an all-purpose Private Message to everyone online: “I AM NOT A WOMAN”

Scratch: Look, Budge. If this is bigger than both of us, then you can’t cut me any deals. You have no power here, be gone.

Scratch: I’m outta here. But it’s been great talking to you.

Ms. Budge: Wait, Scratch…

Scratch has left the room.

Ms. Budge: Aw, great…

END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY

TOOBE ENTRY

To: Toobe

From: Winc

Subj: Oh, ouch

::softly:: Hey there. I just wanted to know if you’re safe and well. Please let me know, soon as you can.

Have you heard from Scratch? Don’t tell hir I asked. Ze needs some space just now, space that doesn’t include me. But if you could pass any word back, I’d appreciate it.

Wanna know something funny? I thought Scratch was going to be a guy! I was all set to be the little woman in his life. ::sigh:: Next time this sort of thing happens, slap me!

The real world has become more and more threatening. Have you been reading *half* the stuff they’re saying about me and Scratch? I start crying, it scares me that much. Which prison would they put me in, Toobe?

Not joking here. In England, they put gurlz like me into the men’s prison, even after surgery.

I don’t know what they’d do to me *here*, because all my paperwork still says boy.

I’m too freaked to go to the corner for Diet Pepsi and Cheez-Its, it’s rice-cake city in my apartment.

With peanut butter. Even the Pakistani family who runs the corner store is now asking if “Missy Winc” is the same Winc everyone’s talking about.

So… ::deep breath:: I’m getting out of Dodge.

Out of my neighborhood, out of the whole damned state. By the time you get this, I’ll be “return to sender, address unknown.”

Cyberspace is the one place I found to splatter into all of who I am—free—so I’ll just stay there. Been doing a lot of surfing these past few days, in every kind of identity, but never my own; that’s under reconstruction.

I miss you. I miss Scratch. No… I miss what Scratch has been to me, with me, online. I don’t miss who ze turned out to be. But I miss something, someone.

Love you, hope you’re well. Say hello to Gwyn for me, will you?

—W.

If they would just talk. Winc thinks Scratch is rejecting hir when ze’s only just thinking, and Scratch thinks Winc is all of a sudden just one person, instead of all the ones ze’s known for a while.

END TOOBE ENTRY

NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT

Meanwhile, Winc has graciously accepted Lt. Budge’s invitation to chat.

Online Host

*** You are in room “White Flag” ***

Winc: ::standing outside the lion’s cage, peering in at the strong handsome lion wearing a badge:: Howdy!

Ms. Budge: Thank you so much for talking with me.

Winc: Any time, darling.

Ms. Budge: You don’t sound like a man.

Winc: Why *thank you*. I’m not being a man today. Are you?

Ms. Budge: I am a man.

Winc: Cute screen name. Get you many dates?

Ms. Budge: It was a mistake in Registration. I assure you I’m Lt. Budge, a man.

Winc: ::purring:: Oh I doubt that, but we’ll let it ride. What do you want?

Ms. Budge: What do you mean you’re “not being a man today”?

Winc: ::eyes sparkling:: You haven’t done your homework.

Ms. Budge: Ah, I see. But why *do* you change around so much?

Private Message to Ms. Budge

Winc: Please feel free to use your Private Messages, dear. They’re so much more intimate.

Ms. Budge: I’ll try, but this is still fairly new to me.

Winc: ::slow smile:: How sweet!

Winc: Is *that* what you want to know? Why I change? ::laughing delightedly:: Try it yourself!

Ms. Budge: I’d rather hear it from you.

Winc: What is it you want to hear? What I’m wearing, right?

Ms. Budge: No, no, no. I wonder if you know that the law is after you?

Winc: ::smiling softly, opening top buttons of my blouse:: The law? Whatever do they want?

Ms. Budge: Jesus, lady. That’s not what this is about. We’ve been talking with your friend Scratch.

Winc: ::rubbing a hand over my stubble, fixing my tie:: Hey, buddy, watch who you’re callin’ a dame!

Confused, Budge simply doesn’t answer.

Winc: ::smiling gently::

Weakly, Budge types:

Ms. Budge: Okay, you’re pretty good at that.

Winc: ::purring:: The best you’ll ever meet.

Ms. Budge: I guess that’s why you’re so good at phone sex, right?

There is a long pause from the other end.

Ms. Budge: You’re awfully quiet now…

Winc: When did you talk with Scratch, asshole?

Ms. Budge: Oh, the lady has a mouth. Recently.

There is another long pause. Budge worries he’s driven him/her away.

Winc: Well, good for you. Did you get hir autograph? Or a blow job?

There’s that word again, “hir.” Maybe Winc doesn’t even know what sex Scratch is? He makes a note on his dog-eared manual.

Ms. Budge: What’s the matter, have a fight?

Winc: Fuck you.

Ms. Budge: Look, let’s try another tack.

Winc has left the room.

Ms. Budge: Damn!

He remembers the Private Messages.

Private Message to Winc

Ms. Budge: Winc, please come back, I want to talk with you. I’m sorry.

Winc: Hold on… I’m checking something.

Winc has entered the room.

Winc: No tracer, huh? Good cop.

Ms. Budge: Of course not. Can we start again?

Winc: ::sitting down across from you, blouse still open to reveal just a soft curve, leaning forward::

Ms. Budge: You can check a trace that quickly, eh?

Winc: ::softly:: I can do lots of things, darling. What do you want?

Ms. Budge: Are you aware there is a warrant for your arrest?

Winc: On what charges?

Ms. Budge: Well, they may or may not be true, but there’s evidence enough for us to arrest you. So can I ask you a question or two, to clear this thing up?

Winc: ::laughing lightly:: Be my guest.

Ms. Budge: Are you now or have you ever trafficked in pornography on the Internet?

Winc: ::leaning forward, resting my hand on your knee:: As a participant?

Ms. Budge: Selling or loaning pornography to minors and others.