The fabulous Swishy Pete lives in upper Manhattan with his brassy, sassy friends, Minnie, Char, and Delicious. You’ll recognize him the minute he opens his mouth. He’s out and proud, overly talkative, and in your face. A typical New Yorker, but as soon as you meet him, you will never forget him.
Conversations with Swishy Pete Volume I gathers together twelve flash fiction “episodes” featuring Swishy Pete and his friends as they dish on life in the Big Apple. Sometimes deep, often humorous, these short stories bring a fresh perspective that redefines GLBT stereotypes.
So, honey, come listen in as Pete tells it like it is.
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EXCERPT:
Episode 1: Introducing Swishy Pete
“If you want to know about me and my life,” Pete said as he blew dry the final coat of clear nail polish on his right hand, “please do not ask me what I do for a living.”
“If a man is interested in making your acquaintance, how should he proceed?” Minnie asked.
“Girl, Minnie, boo-boo, let me break it down to you. Suppose some hot ‘n’ sexy man walks up to you, right?”
“I ain’t feeling any men these days,” Minnie muttered, as she rolled her eyes.
“Alrighty then, say it’s Ms. Janet Jackson,” Pete sighed.
“She’s caught up with Ali Baba, so bump her, too,” Minnie replied.
“His name is Wissam Al Mana.”
“Whatever.”
“Girl,” Pete blew up, “if you don’t let me get this story out ...”
“I’m sorry, Swishy Pete,” Minnie said, sarcastic. “Get on with it, bitch.”
“When they ask what you do for a living, professionally, they’re summing you up based on your job title. Baby, I prefer to let them make something up and save me the worry. And don’t call me Swishy -- if I wanted to be insulted, I would call my father.”
“Hello, it’s a joke.” Minnie smirked. “If they don’t ask what you do for a living, how are they supposed to pass judgment and determine whether they like you?”
“Minnie, you can be so simple sometimes.” Pete stood. “Look at me, honey. Anyone worth knowing can see I’m fabulously complex.”
“Are you saying you’re transparent?” Minnie asked.
Pete folded his hands together in prayer. “See God in everyone. Okay -- let me come at this from a different direction. If you saw a homeless man, you wouldn’t need to know his professional occupation to know at least the obvious part of his story.”
“What if he’s not homeless but just a bad dresser?” Minnie asked.
“Don’t breathe, girl, or I’ll lose you,” Pete said crudely. “Instead of asking me what I do for a living, why not ask where I was born. Hello? Ask me, bitch.”
“Hey, Swishy Pete, where are you from, girlfriend?” Minnie laughed, barely able to get it all out. “Pardon me, sir, where y’all from?”
“Where am I from? How nice of you to ask.” Pete clutched his pearls. “I’m from Oklahoma. Now, Minnie -- what does that say to you about me?”
“Umm, growing up you we were not allowed to walk backward while eating a hamburger.”
“No, fool!” Pete yelled. “That’s only true in Oklahoma City. Oklahoma is a great Broadway musical, and it speaks of my yearning to be a stage actress. Next, I was born in the small city of Cherokee -- what do you think that says about me?”
“Oh, I know -- that you are an afro-descendant of Cherokee extraction, like Beyoncé,” Minnie raved.
“No, that I performed the Cher song, ‘Half Breed,’ in drag back in the day at the club. Ho!”
“Donny and Marie,” their manager called, “your lunch breaks are over. Time to get back to work.”
“He ain’t all that just cause he’s the manager, and I don’t appreciate his tone,” Pete headed toward the back door of the restaurant after putting out his cigarette. “I could’ve been manager if I had finished college.”
“Is that why you don’t tell folks what you do for a living?” Minnie asked.
“Yep.” Pete held the door open for Minnie.
“Oh, cool. I just wanted to be clear on your process.”
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