The Cock Crowed

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Peter’s denial is a common story.

The Cock Crowed
by Angela Rasch

The clock on my laptop hadn’t changed in hours. Sometimes that happens on the graveyard shift. The time between 1:20 and 1:21 AM can last forever. There are those who say a simple change in attitude will fix that.

Peter Schiltz, the nameplate stated that hung from the wall of my cubicle.

I’d thought about using ”Petra” for my fem name, but that’s so obvious. When I’m dressed I love the name Crystal. I know it’s a name that strippers are fond of using. But I still think it’s delightful.

At 1:45 Wally, from accounting, poked his head over the divider. “Pete, did you happen to watch HBO last night?”

Wally’s a guy I love to fantasize about. I’ve given him at least a hundred mental blowjobs. “I was watching ultimate fighting. What were you and every other faggot in the world watching on HBO -- while real men were glued to UFC?”

Wally blushed.

If I don’t make him blush once a week, life isn’t worth living. As far as I know, he’s as hetero as they make’em, but he’s cute as all hell when he blushes.

“It’s a. . .,” he stammered. “They had a comedy special with Eddie Izzard. I about died laughing."

“Eddie Izzard!” I roared. “Isn’t he that fudge-packer who wears dresses?”

“He doesn’t wear dresses all that often . . . anymore.” Wally said almost apologetically.

“All that often? Isn’t once ‘often’ enough? Wearing a dress is like being pregnant. If you wear a dress, even just once, you’re either a woman or you’re horrifically fucked-up.”

“He’s really funny,” Wally said quietly, but pulled his head back, out of my sight. “As Eddie would say,” Wally’s voice floated to me, “As Eddie would say, ‘Armageddon . . . out of here.’”

***

At 3:10 AM I sat in the lunchroom eating a chicken and cucumber wrap I’d brought from home.

Marcy’s dress is soooo cute. How do they think of making a sleeveless dress out of red and white fabric that looks like a cowboy’s bandana.? I wonder if I can find something like it online in a size 18? It’s so frustrating to order an XL, only to have it be so small I’d need two of them. But . . . with a Really Red lipstick, I’d look good in that dress!

Sean sat down and pulled out a PB and J sandwich. He ate a few bites before waving it at me. “Racist . . . that’s what some jackass in Portland said. Cuz not everyone eats PB and J -- teachers ain’t supposed to mention it less-en they balances what they say by talkin’ about food ate by Somalis and Hispanics.”

“You don’t say. What’s next?”

“I’ll tell you ‘what’s next.’ To be politically correct, we’re all going to have to starts wearing uniforms. Unisex uniforms.”

“What would be wrong with that?” I asked. “If the big boys up in the ivory tower want to pay for my clothes, I’m not going to fight that.”

“What if they decide we’s all gots to wear ladies’ clothes.” He went on to warn me about how women have to wear dresses sometimes, for hygienic reasons. So, there would be days when we would all have to wear dresses.

“Fuck’em!” I declared. “They would have one hell of a time getting me to do that. I’d like to see them try.”

We both laughed, in open rebellion, of the fictitious change, in dress code.

***

At 7:06 AM my shift ended. I left the building and started to cross the parking lot. I could smell the manure, from the farmer’s barn, across the road, from our call center.

“Hold up, Pete,” Gordon shouted. His face was red from the short sprint he’d taken across the lot, to talk with me. “I wanted your opinion on something,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

I nodded.

“Jenkins and I have to drive down to Atlanta for a seminar, next week.” His forehead wrinkled.

“So?”

“The company wants us to save some money, by bunking together.”

“One bed or two?” I asked mischievously.

“Two,” he quickly asserted. “but that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Un-huh.”

“Have you ever heard anything about Jenkins?”

“Like what?” I studied Gordon’s shoulders, memorizing the contour of his muscles. In about an hour, I’m going to be lying in bed in my negligee stroking myself -- while thinking about his build.

“Like. . .?” Gordon asked. “Which team does he bat for?”

I laughed. “Jenkins is married. He and his wife have four kids.”

“I know,” Gordon stated. “I went to a Christmas party at their house, last year. The thing is – I’ve been thinking about the shirts Jenkins wears. They’re usually some womanish color. . .like pink, or some other pastel.”

“I’ve never noticed,” I lied. I’ve often wished I had the guts to wear what Jenkins does . . . maybe even with the buttons on the other side.

“Pete, do you think I’m safe, in a motel room, with him?” Gordon’s face was dead serious.

“If I was you. . .." I stopped and lowered my voice. “. . . I’d pack a gun in my suitcase.”

“A gun?” Gordon’s face showed complete shock.

“That way when Gordon comes out of the bathroom in a nightgown you can shoot him, before he tricks you into thinking he’s a woman.”

A rooster on the neighboring farm crowed.

***

I wept bitterly, all the way home, frustrated by what I had to do and say to get through life.

Why do I have to live in a world of intolerance? Why can’t people just allow other people to be themselves?

The End

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Thanks to Gabi for the review and help.

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Stories available through Doppler Press on Amazon:

Shannon’s Course
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Texas Two-Step
All Those Thing You Always Pined For
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Swifter, Higher, Stronger
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Baseball Annie
The Girl Who Saved Aunt T’s
Her
She Like Me
How You Play the Game
Hair Soup
Perfectionists
Imperfect Futures
The Handshake That Hides the Snake

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Comments

Expertly done.

Expertly done.

Ban nothing. Question everything.

denial

some of the worst people toward gays or trans people are the ones in the closet.

DogSig.png

SIGH! How sad that some feel

the need to go stealth, deny who they are unil it is way too late to truly do what is needed.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

My shirts....

Andrea Lena's picture

...in my dreams they all button on the other side... sigh.... all too close to home, my dear, but all good as well! Thank you!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Sad, Sad

My understanding of psychology isn't that great, but it seems like these anti-trans, anti-womyn statements would be very damaging to Crystal's psyche. OTOH, the statement to have a gun to kill the family man if he crossdressed was so ridiculous that only a moron would think it wasn't a joke!

Some say one's subconscious takes statements, one says or thinks, literally; it doesn't understand sarcasm, irony, hyperbole, etc. I think that such talk,even if just with coworkers, builds internalized trans and homophobia. Hating what you are and constantly disparaging one's self seems like it would lead to mental breakdown, depression and even suicide.

Before transition, I was mostly neutral on gay/trans issues, but I at least made faces if someone made a homophobic statement. People probably thought i was different, if not strange, but no one at work, anyway, said anything, that I overheard, saying I was fem, trans, etc.

Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee

A well-written update

On an old theme. It's sad that, in denying the truth, many people lean too far the other way.

Among the notices pinned to the inside of the toilet door of a hotel that I once visited was this:

"Denial is not a river in Egypt."

S.

Have you...

Ole Ulfson's picture

Been spying on me?

Well, maybe not quite that bad..., but it hit home.

Ole

We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!

Gender rights are the new civil rights!

Excellent as always, Angela.

KristineRead's picture

Excellent as always, Angela.

Haven't been able to read much lately, but was delighted to see your byline, and jumped in to it.

It is sad that so many have to hide behind the macho.

Hugs,

Kristy.

The title pulled me in

I thought this might be a story whose idea came from an old MASH program, where BJ gets sent a mystery with the ending missing. Oh well, those damn fairies, reading stuff about guys with phony boobs, running around scaring little girls i n the ladie's room.

There it is

Why do I have to live in a world of intolerance?!

laika's picture

Because you help create that world with everything you say, ya goofy bitch!

Which of course was your point here.
It would've almost served her right if Gordon + Jenkins
came back from their business trip like one of Maryanne's
happy couples- Jenkins totally out + looking ravishing as her true femme self,
and Gordon convinced his shmoopie-pie is all the woman a man could ever want!
Leaving your narrator thinking: "That could have been me
living as a woman + sucking Gordie's big beautiful cock
every night if only I wasn't such a pathetic closet case!"
But I can't say I've never tried to camouflage myself
with a cloak of cartoon butchdom like that. I went that route
for about a week in 8th grade. Thank God I was so bad at it!
~hugs, Veronica
.
(ruff draft 1st verse of a song parody I'm too 2 a.m. tired to finish:)
As I walked by a fine boutique
I eyed the garments sheer and chic
a chick walked out dressed to the nines
that made a voice in my head whine:
IT SHOULD OF BEEN ME...
DRESSED UP TO THE NINES!
IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME...
WEARIN' THAT DRESS SO FINE!
Yes it should have been me...
STRUTTIN MY FOXY STUFF!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPv7V9gbovA

Dolly Parton and Laika

Recently I listened to the podcast Dolly Parton's America.

Until I went through that many hour journey I didn't realize what a huge Dolly fan I am.

Your lyrics are very Dolly like. You are amazingly talented. I'll give your song two thumbs up and a 40DD rating.

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Jill going all biblical

However, Peter "improves" on that, three times isn't enough.

I'd consider him a sad person, if only the situation he contributes to wasn't even sader.

Thou Art Peter

And upon this rock I shall build my church.

This story of Peter's denials is about as sad as the Bible gets.

Peter was the chosen one. With great power comes great responsibility.

There are those who simply don't understand how a person can be trans. That makes it even more important that those of us who have at least some insight not become our own enemy.

We don't have to take to the streets demonstrating against a government who is a anti trans. We don't have to give up our basic beliefs because politicians have woven fiscal conservatism into a spaghetti with trans bathroom and military service issues. But we do have a duty to ourselves NOT to denigrate a person's right to self expression.

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

I'll never understand this stuff

what I had to do and say to get through life.

This is what I don't understand about men.

Can't you just say, "why are you being such an a******?" and just not go along with it. Don't laugh. Give the dude-bros a "grow up already" look. Turn your back and focus on something productive. You don't have to be trans to say that saying that sort of stuff about anyone is a "dick move" (not to mention a waste of time and energy.)

Granted, you won't be invited to the parties where people drink til they throw up and get into fights (defending their "manhood," donchano) and do thousands of dollars of damage to hotel rooms (which they then have to pay for), but why would you want to, anyway?

This is what I've never understood about men: why do they go along with all these stupid and ultimately self-destructive social rituals? Even as a small child, half a century before it ever occurred to me that trans was even a possibility, I didn't feel the slightest desire to participate in this stuff. If I'd had a "man card," I'd have wanted to burn it on the steps of the Playboy Mansion [*] Granted, I was ostracized and picked on, but since being "accepted" also meant getting picked on, and about as much as I already was, I couldn't see that I was any worse off. For me, one of the benefits of transitioning was hanging out with a better class of people.

(To quote the webcomic Rain LGBT, "people suck.")

[*] For those who don't get it, look up the stories of draft-age men in the 1960's and 1970's burning their draft cards.