A queer guy walks into a bar.

Wait, that’s not the story.

Okay, a queer guy — we’ll call the poor bastard Kirk — goes to a restaurant where he’s agreed to meet this psycho tooth fetish mother fucker for dinner. It’s 6pm and this queer guy — Kirk — he’s feeling kinda jittery because he isn’t really looking forward to a month or so in a pit before he is bludgeoned and his teeth extracted in some sort of primitive orthodontic exercise. Kirk is patting himself on the back for at least having made the date early enough that it was still light out therefore enabling him to use his cell phone to take pics of the crazy ass tooth fetish fucker’s license plates and send them to numerous contacts who would use said pics to lead police to Kirk’s subterranean prison (but hopefully only after he had put the lotion on his skin to get real soft AND lost a few pounds in the bargain but before he came out gumming his applesauce.)

Anyhoo, this queer guy Kirk is just sitting in his car waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And looking all stalker-y and shit because people are walking in and out of fucking Applebee’s and he’s just sitting there looking like a mook.

Then his cell rings. At 6:30.

It’s his “date”…we’ll call him Ronald.

Ronald says he is in a meeting which is running late and shit, and apoligizes profusely to Kirk, saying he’ll call as soon as he gets to the restaurant, probably around 7:15. Kirk is not happy because it is getting dark, but reluctantly agrees, then goes over to Borders where he wanders around for a fucking month of Sundays, checking his cell every few minutes. 7:15 comes and goes. No call.

Finally the cell rings. At 7:25.

“Kirk, I am so sorry…I am still in this meeting. Could we make it 8? Please?”

Now Kirk, being a fucking doormat and shit, once more agrees, realizing that he is meeting a friggin’ demented dental deviant in the dark of the night but unable to hurt the poor bastard’s feelings.

Hoping to alleviate some of his stress, Kirk goes over to Best Buy to get GILMORE GIRLS – SEASON 6 because he loves Lauren Graham so much that he would try to “pray away the gay” for her if she wanted to make a go of things because she is the only other person he has ever seen who can talk as fast as he can and really say nothing and he knows they would have so much fun together and would collapse in fits of giggles every Saturday when they went shoe shopping for her. As he is standing in line to purchase the dvd goodness that is all things Gilmore, he suddenly notices the time…8:15. Shit, he’s late.

Kirk is hurrying to his car when the phone rings.

“Kirk…please forgive me…I’m on the way right now but I am stuck in traffic.”

“Fine, whatever,” Kirk sighs with a petulant air. “I’ll meet you at the far end of the Best Buy parking lot.”

15 minutes later, Ronald arrives, apologizing profusely and offering up a litany of excuses that Kirk is neither interested in nor cares to hear.

“So, are you hungry? ‘Cause I am starved!” Ronald says, “What say we ride over together?”

“I say no thanks,” Kirk replies, “I have to get going right after dinner…it’s getting late and I have to work tomorrow.”

“Oh right.” Ronald looks disappointed. “Well, follow me over, okay?”

(Like Kirk was going to fucking hoof it.)

Ronald drives off and Kirk follows.

Kirk is more than a little perplexed when they drive right past Applebee’s. And Chili’s. And Ruby Tuesday’s. And the Outback Steak House.

In fact, Kirk is beginning to get more than a little concerned he is being led out of the city and onto a deserted country road where Ronald will try to get him to leave the safety of his Gremlin and then clap a chloroform soaked rag over his mouth and drag his ass to an abandoned cabin with a dental chair and a fully stocked accoutrement of dental tools. These fears are allayed when he sees Ronald’s right turn signal flash to life. But new fears are born when he watches Ronald make the turn into the parking lot.

Of Subway.

You heard me. Subway.

Let me say it one more time in case you think you have been struck retarded: SUBWAY.

As in “Eat Fresh.”

Kirk is livid. He rarely goes out to dinner and had no expectations of a free meal — he was planning to pay for his half — but he was hoping to make his last meal with teeth something a little more…substantive. Not something Jon Lovitz was whoring himself for in a series of poorly executed commercials.

So he goes inside and orders a turkey on wheat with light lettuce and bacon only and a bottled water, then plops down in a booth, pissed to the fucking N-th degree. Ronald joins him a few minutes later with some ungodly foot long sandwich with buckets of jism oozing out the sides. Kirk could not be more disgusted if his own sandwich had been on the receiving end of a hearty circle jerk.

They are sitting in silence, eating, when Kirk feels a foot rubbing his calf. He closes his eyes, biting the inside of his jaw and counting to ten, then slowly opens them, looking up at Ronald who is grinning his big decayed smile with bits of bread between his teeth and making “come hither” eyes.

Kirk remains emotionless. One hand clutching his cum sub, Ronald reaches across the table with his other hand and touches Kirk’s hand which is on his bottled water. He scrunches up his face in what Kirk thinks may be a twisted approximation of a wink. Or a leer. Or maybe it is his orgasm face. Kirk isn’t sure, but whatever it is the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation hits him full on and Kirk bursts out laughing.

And spits a little piece of lettuce on Ronald’s shirt.

Ronald doesn’t notice.

Kirk laughs harder.

After the dining experience, Ronald walks Kirk to his Gremlin and in a moment of unbridled insanity, goes in for a kiss. Kirk begins bobbing his head, looking like either one very pissed off sis-tuh or the middle weight contender dodging a rabbit punch.

Ronald frowns, but picks up on the subtle cues.

“Kirk, I’m really sorry about tonight. Could we try this again next Thursday?”

Kirk looks at the poor schlep and feels a bottomless pit (haha) of sympathy because that will be him — minus the bad bridge work — in a few years, but answers him honestly: “I have something planned next Thursday, Ronald. I’m sorry.”

Ronald nods. “Well, call me and we’ll set something up, okay?”

Kirk mutters something about no promises and tells him to take care. As he is pulling away, Kirk catches one last glimpse of Ronald who has his thumb to his ear and his pinkie to his mouth like a phone, mouthing “call me.”

Driving home, Kirk feels awful for Ronald, and hopes this Thursday’s foray into interpersonal activities goes better than this one. But deep in his heart of hearts, he knows it won’t.