News from Queer Gaza

It looks like they got rid of mom next door at Little Iran. The Greeter's wife is back and I watched them cart his mom off to the airport. I think they waited at the airport until they saw her plane disappear from sight. I know I would. She must have been a real bitch to his wife.

The two spent the rest of the day together, snuggling and making up I suppose. I hope so anyway. Especially since it's Valentines Day. Not that Muslims celebrate a third century Catholic saint's propensity for love, and in this case, it could have been a ruse.

Late in the night, when my prying eyes were asleep, they left in her car and haven't been back since. I'll have to send up another drone, Great Owl is no more. I did see a whirly-twirly that could be suited for just the purpose, mounted on the garage roof, to spin in the direction of the wind. With cameras mounted, and energy from the spinning, it could be quite powerful with telescopic ability. Couldn't fly like Great Owl could though but hey, you spy with what you have.

Mom wants the roll-top desk. Her and the boyfriend are suppose to come out tomorrow and pick it up. I suggested we all take a ride in the morning, after a breakfast of fresh fruit, cheese and croissants. Than a pleasant ride around Chatsworth lake and back before we load up the desk on his truck and have pizza on the barbie. It's suppose to be a beautiful day here on Saturday.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful. Can't wait," She said yesterday to me on the phone. I had e-mailed her earlier of the plan to have a nice day cycling and chatting in the backyard. It's a nice backyard here in Queer Gaza cause we're queer.

Today at four in the afternoon she calls. "Wally's bike is in the shop and he may not have it tomorrow. What time would you be back from the ride?"

"Aren't you guys coming out for breakfast?"

"Well Wally might not have his bike and I thought I would ride with the club at eight."

 "So you're not coming for breakfast?"

"Well, what time are you coming back from your ride?"

"I don't know, what does it matter?"

"Well, Wally will come over when you and Juan are there to load the desk."

"Okay, tell him to get here about one."

"Is that when you'll get back?

"I don't know but can't he wait with you. You'll be back from the club ride at noon. So have him meet you here."

"Well, he wants to get the desk loaded."

"So, you guys aren't coming for dinner either. I bought all this food because you said it was a great idea and now you're not coming but are for the desk."

"Don't get mad." She says this accompanied by tears at bay.

"I'm not mad, I'm confused and your boyfriend is a homophobe." He didn't come to the Christmas party either because he had to work, she said.

"He's just shy."

"Okay he's shy. Why not call him once we're back from our ride. We can have the desk out on the curb, he won't have to turn the engine off, we'll load the desk, and you two love birds can be on your way, (to hell, said under my breath) back home.

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

I think we won't be seeing much of Mom or her homophobe lover. And get this, if this guy isn't queer than I don't have gaydar. He is in his fifties, lives close by his mother, but has his own house and never has had a relationship until now.

But here's the clincher. When he came over, the only time he has been over, it was for a club ride. The first thing he noticed was the library table in the den.

"Oh, is that a library table? It's beautiful."

First thing out of his fag mouth. I really--really hate homos that are homophobic.