My Best Friend Is Gay

This book is dedicated to all the people who’ve already been victims of any kind of intolerance or prejudice. Especially, to three people who, unfortunately, inspired some of these work’s events.

I dedicate it to the indian Galdino Jesus dos Santos, cowardly killed in his sleep on a bus stop in Brasília.

I dedicate it to the student Luís Alberto Betonio, an homophobia’s victim, at the Paulist Avenue.

At last, I dedicate it to Eloá Cristina Pimentel, a chauvinism’s victim.

Any kind of prejudice or intolerance will never be MIMIMI.

Index

Chapter 1

My best friend had let me down

Chapter 2

My best friend would understand me

Chapter 3

My best friend Márcio

Chapter 4

My best friend is always better than me

Chapter 5

My best friend is being flirted by the girl I like

Chapter 6

My best friend was right

Chapter 7

My best friend is gay

Chapter 8

My best friend is a shitty faggot

Chapter 9

My best friend might be in danger

Chapter 10

Is my best friend a GoGo Boy?

Chapter 11

My best friend is heterosexual

Chapter 12

My best friend believes in me

Chapter 13

My best friend stood by me

Chapter 14

My best friend was stopped at the football game

Chapter 15

My best friend faces his father

Chapter 16

My best friend isn’t a guy like that

Chapter 17

My best friend has a boyfriend

Chapter 18

My best friend is really nonsense sometimes

Chapter 19

My best friend gets indignant

Chapter 20

My best friend is a good player

Chapter 21

My best friend is very happy, and so am I

Chapter 22

My best friend is very strong

Chapter 23

My best friend won’t forgive his father

Chapter 24

My best friend has a nice surprise

Chapter 25

My best friend is okay

Chapter 26

My best friend and I were intolerance’s victims once again

Chapter 27

My best friend is straight

Acknowledgements

The author

Starting the computer

Chapter 1

My best friend had let me down

Friday, December 21st, 20XX

What a sad era! When it is easier to smash an atom than a prejudice.

Albert Einstein

This is my first post’s title on this blog, however, at this moment, I don’t want to talk about the disappointment my friend’s caused me, but about what I witnessed the day before, because I can’t get what I heard and saw that night out of my head.

I had spent the day solving some issues in Recife’s downtown, and at night, tired, I went to a bar close to the Capibaribe’s shore, one of my favorite places. That night, I really needed to be alone, drink some beers and try to forget the problems I was facing.

I drank alone, which I didn’t like to do, and when I realised, it was already late. I paid my bill and went walking to the bus stop.

I started walking faster, because the bus stop to my house was right after the Treze de Maio Park, and since it was almost closing, I decided to enter it and take a shortcut as fast as possible.

Suddenly, I saw three apparently young men wearing black clothing, tall and with hoods, screaming at a homeless man who slept on one of the square’s benches. 

In the hand of one of them, I saw the glint of a silver gun, which shone more than anything amid the poorly lit square. At the moment, very scared, I didn’t have a doubt, I threw myself behind the bushes and hid. I feared being discovered, my heart was racing, almost leaving my body through my mouth and I was crazy to get out of there. 

— Wake up, vagabond, c’mon, wake up!

— What is it? What have I done? — the homeless man asked while sitting on the bench. 

— What have you done? — the man who carried a gun ironically asked, and then, hit the gun’s butt at the homeless man’s head, making him get up yelling because of the pain. 

— DO YOU REALLY WANT ME TO SAY IT, DO YOU? — the other one, in the back, yelled and put the homeless man in a sleeper hold, covering his mouth. A third man approached his hooded face to the homeless man’s ear and said:

— You haven’t done anything, you were just born. 

Finishing pronouncing these words, he kneed the poor man’s belly, than another man flying kicked him so strongly it threw the homeless man and the man holding him on the floor.

The two who were standing laughed of the situation, while the poor man yelled and contorted on the floor with pain. The hooded man who fell along with the homeless man got up, saw his bloody hand and got infuriated about it. He went to the homeless man’s direction and raised him up.

— What the fuck! This vagabond’s filthy blood is all over my hands. Now you’ll pay for it, worm. 

He punched the homeless man so hard that he fell on the ground again, and then started stepping his face with all of his anger and strength. With his foot still on the man’s face, he bent and said: 

— You’re gonna die, because people like you aren’t any good, you’re just a punching bag who delays the world’s development. And besides being a homeless person, you’re balck, you monkey!

The homeless man, by impulse and not thinking about the fact that the three men had a gun, for a second, forgot the pain, got up and ran screaming for help in my direction.

That made me think, for a moment, that he had saw me hiding, but the three men caught him and threw him on the floor again.

— SHUT UP! SHUT UP IF YOU DON’T WANT TO HAVE A MORE PAINFUL DEATH! — one of the three yelled.

— For God’s sake I ask you not to kill me, I haven’t done anything. I’ve never stolen, all I do is ask for help to the people on the bus. Have mercy, for God’s sake, have mercy, please! — that man begged, crying like a child.

— Mercy? God? How do you dare say this holy name? Do you really think He remembers you? He didn’t even create you.

— You’re the devil’s work! — the other one said, squeezing the homeless man’s face once again.

— C’mon, kneel in front of me, right now — the tallest of the three yelled, and he had the gun in his hand. 

— We’re gonna play with you a little — said the hooded — He has a gun in his hand, and it has only one bullet.

— You must already know how this game works — said the other one, completing the sentence.

The homeless man knelt and the man behind him said smiling, as if he were telling a joke:

— Now pray, nigga, so the bullet’s not fired. If the bullet doesn’t come out, you’ll be free to go. That’s your final judgment.

Seeing and listening to all of that without being able to make a move made me very angry, and at the same time, very scared. You don’t believe there are people like this until your paths cross and I was there, fearing being discovered, watching everything like a espectator forced to see where it would end. 

At that moment, even I was praying to God to save that poor man, asking for the bullet not to leave the gun. 

— Now I want you to count until three and let’s see if you’re lucky or if God does remember you. — said the man in black stricking up the gun. 

The homeless man, who didn’t stand a chance to defend himself and with the panic running through his body, could only close his eyes and ask for the bullet not to leave the pipe. After a few seconds, with an atremble voice, he started counting perhaps his last seconds of life.

— One, two... — he took a deep breath, but couldn’t say the number three. However, the armed man didn’t hesitate in saying it and then shooting.

Luck or God weren’t with him that night. The gun fired without a sound in the mournful silence of the park, the bullet went through his head and fell on the ground.

My heart beat really fast, in a mixture of fear and anger and the tears started running down out of my control. It wasn’t fair. The hooded men smiled as if they were at a party, and in the middle of the laughs, one of them said:

— And he thought God would remember him. Even worse, he believed there was only one bullet in the gun. I love to see the hope in these pigs’ eyes and be certain that it sure is the last one to die.

— Let’s go before someone gets here — said the man who fired, then firing once again at the dead body to assure its death and running. They jumped the park’s grids and entered a red car, leaving.

I stood there, shook. I’ve never witnessed such brutality, I’ve never seen anyone die in front of me. I was shaking more than anything and had no idea what to do, if I should just sit there or run away, and my body was completely motionless. 

What now?, I thought.

What if they came back and did something else? What if they found me? I had to get out of that place. I took courage and stood up, but my legs barely kept me standing. And before I left, I had to take one good look at the man who was exectuted with no mercy.

When I approacched the body that lay on the floor, I looked at the poor man’s face, now disfigured. There was a lot of blood, and I could see part of his brain matter leaving his head. It was one of the most horrible scenes I’ve ever witnessed in my whole life.

I couldn’t be there anymore, I had to run. I turned my back to the body that lay on the floor and went running to the bus stop. Lucky for me, there was a cab passing by, and even without money, I entered it. 

During the ride, I was only able to say the address, nothing else. I was white as paper, wheezing and crazy to get home.

When I got to the building, I asked the driver to wait a moment so I could get the money to pay the ride with my mom.

I desperately intercommed our apartment and my mom picked it up a bit sleepy, but she soon woke up. When I asked her for money to pay the cab ride, she knew that something had happened by my voice.

— What happened? Are you okay? You’re pale, son, cold sweating... – she said when she got to the bulding’s entrance.

— Mom, please, borrow me the money, I’ll tell you everything later — I told her, so I headed myself to the cab driver: — Here’s the money and thank you very much.

— Are you okay, kid? — the cab driver asked, distrusted. 

— I’m much better now that I’m home, thank you.

Me and my mom climbed the stairs and the only action I had when we got to our apartment was to hug her and cry.

Posted by Carlos at 11:50 pm.

Chapter 2

My best friend would understand me

Saturday, December 22nd, 20XX

As I opened the door and saw everything in its place, it came to my head the possibility of if one of them had seen me hidden and I couldn’t help thinking about what they would’ve done to me. 

Perhaps I’d be lay on the park’s floor right now and would never be able to look at my mom and the people I loved and do the things I like dever again. Situations like this make you realise how fragile life is and how everything can be over in a matter of seconds, just like what I had just witnessed.

My mom asked me worriedly what had happened, and once again, I had to remember and narrate that brutality. As I told the story, I started feeling worse - it was like I was talking about a movie, because the scene kept coming back to my head. 

— My son, there was nothing you could do, there were three of them, and one even had a gun. Thank God they didn’t see you, only He knows what would’ve happened. — with her eyes filled with tears, she hugged me and said: — Only God knows what he’s done to deserve that.

— Mom, didn’t you get it?

— What, son? — she asked while wiping her eyes.

— That man didn’t deserve to die that way.

— My son, for him to have an end like this, he sure wasn’t a good person. 

— No, mom. They weren’t there because the guy had done something wrong, they wanted to kill him simply because he was a black homeless man, I heard one of them saying it. 

— I still think he must’ve done something to deserve it. Usually, those homeless people are on drugs and whatever else what. Today it was him, tomorrow it will be another one.

— Tomorrow can be me or even you, mom, you didn’t understand me. This isn’t right, people can’t die simply because they were born or for being who they are.

— It might even be that tomorrow it is me or you, but we have much more chance of living, son, the probablity of it happening to us is much smaller. That guy had nothing, not even where to live - God knows if he wasn’t on drugs, had stolen or, who knows, taken someone’s life. How many lives this man could’ve might taken? Only God knows. Perhaps his death tonight was better for everyone. It will be one less person on the streets hurting us.

— I... I can’t believe I’m hearing this. — I said getting up — A life’s a life, mom, and as worse as someone might be, nobody has the right to take it away from this person, even less in that way. If he was some kind of marginal, he should’ve payed according to the law, just like any other citizen.

— You make it sound like the laws work in this country.

— I... I’m gonna take a shower, and maybe try to get some sleep. Thank you for everything. 

— My son, I know it must’ve been horrible to watch that, but try to sleep, tomorrow will be a new day. Do you want anything to eat?

— No, thanks. — and after kissing her good night on her forehead, I went to my room.

Under the shower, the water fell on my head, but it didn’t stop me from seeing the scene of a gun shooting and a bullet crossing the homeless man’s head.

My mom didn’t understand that he hadn’t been murdered because he stole or for any other bad thing he could’ve done. He was killed because he was alive, because he was sleeping on that park’s bench.

She had already judged him without even knowing if he had a choice or a chance, and that remebered me of all the times I did this exact same thing, specially to my best friend.

I continued to think, and more and more questions came to my head. Would he change his life if he had the chance? Who in that situation wouldn’t? If he had the same opportunities as I do, would he be in other conditions?

I couldn’t accept that anyone would choose a life like that, and those questions made me think about many things I was going through. I can’t blame my mom for assuming those conception’s about that homeless man’s death, because most of the people would do the same thing. Maybe, if I hadn’t seen it all, I would do the same thing.

But of one thing I’m sure: nothing justified such brutality. 

That night, I couldn’t sleep. In my head there