No Trespassing

Throw a bunch of words in a hat, pull one out, and write a story using that word.

This week’s word: ANSWER

NO TRESPASSING

This might be my sense of adventure talking, or maybe right vs. wrong (or lack thereof). Maybe I just like danger, or sticking it to authority. Honestly, I don’t know, I just know that whenever I see a No Trespassing sign, I have to trespass, I have to go. It’s like a compulsion, I can’t help it, I can’t say no.

I mean, how can you not? Don’t you wonder what’s over there? What’s so special? What they’re hiding and why can’t we see it? I must know! I need answers, curiosity is a natural instinct, and that’s why I go.

Most of the time it’s harmless. You never get caught and if you do they just ask you to leave. Maybe they’ll arrest you if it’s really serious: like a federal building or government land, but even then it’s just a night in jail, no one cares, and for the most part trespassing involves no one seeing you, no one is even there.

Except one time, I was alone, hiking in the Hollywood Hills. Just out for a walk, not planning anything, but I saw the sign and that was it, I had to go. Had to know: what’s back there? What are they hiding, alone in the hills, behind their No Trespassing sign. They’re so adamant we stay out that a fence isn’t enough? They have to announce they have secrets? Their No Trespassing sign, it’s begging me to come.

So I head off the trail, down the hill, to their property. I hop the fence (the fence that, incidentally, would easily have kept me out had no sign been accompanying it), and land on the other side, in their backyard, in the unknown.

Unknown but not exciting, for there’s nothing here, just a yard. Secluded, overgrown, not even a nice one, we’re in the Hollywood Hills after all. There’s a house too, a little ways away, but it isn’t much better, small and plain, not what you’d expect in this rich fancy area, protected by overgrowth and that fence and their No Trespassing sign.

But still, there must be something. Even if there isn’t, I must know: what’s back here? Why the security? The secrecy? What are these people worried about? What are they hiding?

I circle the house, trying to find something to make this place worth visiting. But I can’t find anything, this place is boring. What the fuck? Is this another one of those homes that’s just worried about robberies? Not a crazy recluse or a conspiracy freak. Those are worth visiting. Not this. What a waste, what a letdown, if you’re gonna have No Trespassing signs, have something worth it, make it exciting.

Wait a second, what’s that? In the bathroom, through the window? It’s a guy, finally, something. He must be the owner. And you know what, he looks kind of familiar. Do I know him? Is he famous? I think he’s an actor. A character actor, I’ve seen him, what have I seen him in?

You know what else, he’s not going to the bathroom. Facing the wrong direction, and his face, eyes closed, short breaths, breathing heavy, is he… Oh my God, he is! He’s getting blown! I can’t see it, the window’s not that big, but I can tell, he’s definitely getting blown.

Alright, now this is exciting, a whole new level of trespassing and spying. Watching his pleasure, his moaning, his enjoyment and delight. But before I know it it’s over, not that he finished: he’s distracted, he’s looking straight at me. Shit! He caught me! Staring at me, through the window, confused and surprised. How did he find me? He was supposed to be enjoying his blowjob; how did he know I was here, I was watching?

Oh boy, he’s angry, this actor I can’t place, I interrupted his pleasure; he’s definitely angry. His fun ends, and then up pops… what the fuck?!

Another guy? That’s his secret! He’s gay! I’ve been watching a blowjob between two guys! This closet gay actor, worried about trespassers, receiving blowjobs from guys; if only I knew who he was! Remember! Remember! Where have I seen this guy? Remember!

Fuck, where’d he go? It’s just the boyfriend now, he doesn’t look familiar at all. Where’d the actor go? He was angry, he was fuming; where did he go?

There he is, the bedroom. Still naked, still angry. Thankfully his erection is gone, I don’t need to see that, for I’m not the gay one. He’s going through his nightstand, looking for clothing no doubt, then he finds it, pulls it out.

Fuck! That’s not clothing, that’s a gun! A fucking handgun! He’s not angry, he’s crazy! I realize as the screen door flies open, and I got to get out of here, back where I came from. No time to delay, no more trespassing, no more spying; I’m off as I hear gunshots behind me. What the fuck? I thought gay men were friendly. I’m only trespassing, go finish your blowjob, you don’t need to kill me.

I keep running and he keeps firing, screaming, I can hear him behind me, as I cut through the yard, through the overgrowth, to the fence, which I scale quick and I’m gone, out of his yard, off his property. On the correct side of the No Trespassing sign, and this is one I’ll obey from now on. This one here, as I continue to run, run away, far away, away from this home. Away from this crazy gay man, this crazy naked gun-wielding angry gay actor man. He was definitely an actor, if only I could place him. I know I’ve seen him, if only I could place him. This is going to bug me. What’s his name, what’s he been in, the naked gay actor who tried to kill me.

I don’t know, it’s not coming to me and I don’t remember, I don’t know. This is one answer I’ll never have, for while I don’t mind trespassing, I’m not going back there. Getting shot at? Angry gay men? No thank you, that guy was crazy.

So enjoy your privacy closet gay man, enjoy your bathroom blowjobs, your secrecy with guys. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, I don’t even know who you are. Even if I wanted to tell I wouldn’t be able, I don’t recognize you, I don’t know you, and so your secret is safe, I’ll tell no one. Yes, I don’t know you, and I’m not going near you, your secret is safe, behind your No Trespassing sign.

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About Gabriel Bruskoff
I make movies! See gabrielbruskoff.com for more information.

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