Firewater Boy

Rabe Schuyler Johnson, your average 21year old, gay, West Texan boy, known as Shy to a few and as Hey You to many others, could not be sure of much in this life, but he WAS sure of one dang thing - he had a motto and he knew how to use that motto and that motto always was and always would remain - It's All About Freedom, Baby! - YUP! - there it was! FREE was what it was all about, at least it was what HE was all about, free was how he rolled, how he rock-n-rolled that is, but he was finding out (the hard way) that this July afternoon FREE was not going to be helping him out ALL THAT MUCH, especially when a guy like Rabe was having an unfortunate Close Encounter of the Religious Kind with an ancient Greek god in a parking lot out behind his neighborhood mall, and MOREOVER, Rabe was having said encounter JUST AS Rabe was on his way towards a serious (and pre-planned) yet nevertheless totally IMPROMPTU drinking binge involving bottomless margaritas at an out-of-the-way Mexican place in the mall food court, well, when that epiphanic, deity-dense intervention OCCURRED on his sorry behind (in a big way) (we're talking LARGE people), well, as that incident SMOTE upon Rabe, Rabe just had to sit up and take notice (if not roll on his back and show his belly), now didn't he? (of course he did!), so yeah, things got real, in a real quick way in Rabe's world right after that, and you know, as it turns out, Rabe's picture-perfect, gay, West Texan lifestyle ended up NOT being all it was cracked up to be, NOR was his motto as useful and all-encompassing as he'd supposed, AND Rabe was also quickly realizing that the Universe was a heck of a lot more SARCASTIC and MEAN than he'd ever been taught in Sunday School, so, yeah, not the best of days for The Rabester. huh? Follow Rabe as he's played with (painfully) (and casually) by a Bored Universe that MAYBE itself is just out DAY DRINKING and is looking for some ACTION and something to FEEL and happens to find a (mostly) innocent RABE to experiment on.

Rabe Schuyler Johnson, a (young) man known by MANY NAMES, some of them even repeatable in polite company, was not enjoying being KIDNAPPED, no matter how much fun the kidnappers tried to make it out to be, yes, whether by train, plane, bus or runaway wheelchair, being kidnapped came down to the same, boring thing - you had to do what the KIDNAPPERS wanted and not what YOU wanted and that was a BIG HONKING MAJOR problem for The Rabester - losing your precious freedom was a life-changing event folks, and Rabe hadn't asked to have his life changed, thank you very much, he liked his life just the way it was, with him in the driver's seat, (well mostly) and the car going in the direction he wanted (well, some of the time), and his hands on the steering wheel (well, sometimes his hands were on the steering-wheel-of-his-very-own-life, right? - shoot! - at least a few minutes each day, huh? c'mon!), well.. anyways... them kidnappers of his DID NOT seem to understand the basic insupportability and the even more basic contradiction of being kidnapped when you are a Son of Freedom (and had a personal motto/mantra to prove it - It's All About Freedom, Baby!) - and the fact that they also seemed to be Ancient Greek Gods DID NOT seem to ameliorate factors to any extent on top of that, and when you added sarcastic, judge-y mooses, flash-mob Bollywood spectacles on the streets of major European capitals, sadistic militarily crazed bodybuilder flight attendants and bus drivers who speak in Zen riddles once minute and diss you (accurately) the next, well... when you add all that to the mix, the mix gets interesting, in a painful, sob-inducing sort of way, so, come on down and follow 'Ole Rabe here as Rabelicious attempts to navigate said dire straits and even attempts to enjoy them straits some too.