Back when I was growing up in Hazelhurst, Mississippi, you could have asked just about anyone and they'd have told ya that it weren't likely I'd ever amount to a hill o' beans. That's mostly ‘cause I wasn't like most of the other boys in town (and the ones that were like me were better at hidin' it!). All except for Aunt Lula, that is. Aunt Lula, she believed in me from day one and she told me that all the time. Now not many folks would have agreed with Aunt Lula on principle - see she was one of the feistier-type of southern belles. You know the sort. She could have given old Scarlet O'Hara a good run for her money. Aunt Lula had been known to smoke a cigar of an evening, she could drink most of the men in the county under the table and she had even been known to swear a blue streak or two - provided Pastor Remus weren't nowhere nearby. But, I loved Aunt Lula cause she understood me.
In fact, there was this one time - I'd just escaped from the two biggest, homophobic bullies in town, my cousins, Beau & Forrest - and Aunt Lula had found me hiding behind the hydrangeas in the side yard. Well, Aunt Lula gathered me up into her lap on the big rocking chair up on the porch. And, she told me something I would never forget. She said, "Honey chi'l, I'm fixing to get ready to tell you sometin' important here. You Listenin'? Now, Baby, don't you let nobody tell you that you ain't special. I just know, Baby, that someday you gonna do sometin' magical." I always will remember that day and I right away set my sights on someday doing something magical that would make my Aunt Lula proud.
Now, I reckon' that Aunt Lula, when she said I'd do something 'magical' had probably meant that she thought I would maybe get rich or become a movie star or some such like that. Little did she know how prophetic her prediction would turn out to be, though - ‘cause, you see, she was right. I did end up doing something magical - I became a true Fairy Godmother (or Godfather, or maybe Godperson, whatever's more P.C.?). I even granted some fantastic wishes and reunited a King with his Prince, all by my little ol' self. It's a true love story in every sense: It's a story about love, It's a story about 'True Love' and it's a 'true' story (cause you know that all my stories are true and if they aren't they should be). So, y'all just get comfy and I'll tell y'all about how I made this magical love come true.
Once upon a time, in a quaint little village, not so very far away, otherwise known as Pittsburgh, there was a beautiful but very sad young man named Justin Taylor. Now, Justin was so beautiful that the Sun would fail to shine on days that he didn't smile, the ocean would be a little less blue if he blinked his eyes, and the snow on the tops of the highest mountains was ashamed that it wasn't as pale and perfect as Justin's skin. He was very sad though because his lovely, caring and understanding mother, Jennifer Taylor, had recently died and he missed her greatly. His mother had been the only one who had understood him and had been willing to accept him for who he really was - beautiful, delicate, sensitive, artistic, and, oh yeah, gay!
After her death, Justin was left with only his weak, selfish and homophobic prick of a father, Craig Taylor. Poor Justin was so despondent at his mother's death that he withdrew into himself and just completely let himself go - I mean, really let himself go. He so needed a haircut, he refused to wear his contacts and instead wore these god-awful, ugly, big horn-rimmed glasses that totally hid his gorgeous blue eyes, and to top it off, he started wearing these horrible baggy cargo pants and big plaid shirts that completely hid his perky little bubble butt, impressive basket and all other parts of his adorable twinkie body. Poor boy was a walking fashion disaster!
Anyways, poor Justin, sunk in his 'Pit of Despair', wallowed around for a few months/years/whatever. Joyless Justin just sat in his room and doodled in his sketch book and moped. What a complete waste of such a beauty! Then, one day, his ogre of a father came home and announced to the boy that he'd decided to remarry.
You see, the Taylor family's finances hadn't been the same since Jennifer Taylor's demise. Jennifer had come from real money - the kind that was so old it was moldy. Cash-poor Craig had been relying on that moldy money to prop up his floundering business, Taylor Appliances and Electronics, for years. But, when Jennifer died, all her money had gone into a trust for Justin and the trust was managed by an honest, incredibly loyal, and slightly hot young accountant, Ted Schmidt (everybody calls him "Teddy" though, cause he's such a sweet, cuddly teddy bear of a guy). Luckily for the hero of our story (I mean Justin, not ME, silly), Teddy had always distrusted Creepy Craig and therefore he wouldn't release any of the trust money to the Dastardly Dad. So, the beautiful man-child's money was safe, at least until he turned twenty-one and could inherit in his own right.
Well, Cretin Craig, since he couldn't get his hands on Justin's bucks (at least not for the time being), went back to Plan 'A', and decided to marry some more money. Thanks to the miracle of on-line dating, Calculating Craig had found the perfect second wife - she was wealthy, recently divorced, desperately lonely, slightly overweight and had definite self esteem issues. Easy pickin's he thought to himself. This 'catch' (who, by the way, went by the name of Cruella DeVille - Just Kidding! - she was really named Brenda Breeder - Just Kidding Again! - it was just plain old Brenda Nellah), unfortunately came with two parasites-in-tow, namely her twin sons, Ethan and Ian. Craig was willing to overlook these two less-than-welcome additions to the mix, as long as the mix was still overwhelmingly green - as in cold, hard, cash-colored green. Brenda, on the other hand, simply adored her two sons and, as a result, had spoiled them so badly that they stunk worse than last week's cabbage stew. Not only were they spoiled, but they were both, scrawny, greasy and whiny and nobody liked them except for their mother.
Our lovely, lonely, young lad was briefly pulled out of his funky funk at the news of Craig's pending nuptials. He looked forward to maybe making friends with his new step-brothers. He also missed his mother and desperately hoped that perhaps Brenda would care for him and love him as much as his dearly departed mother had. Silly, sweet little Justin was just too innocent and trusting, wasn't he? Apparently, he also wasn't acquainted with the 'Evil Step-parent Theorem', which maintains that any time you have a beautiful, lonely orphan, any replacement parental units must, of necessity, be evil, mean and downright dastardly. Needless to say, our poor baby was wrong, wrong, wrong - about both his soon-to-be-mom and his soon-to-take-over-his-room-step-siblings.
The only good thing to come out of this whole sordid scenario, at least as far as our sweetie is concerned, was ME! Yay! ‘Cause that's how I came into the story - Brenda the Breeder hired ‘Perfect Parties by Auntie Em' to do her wedding, can you believe it? And, the first thing I did when I arrived at the Taylor residence, after helping the bride-to-be pick a theme and color-scheme for the affair, that is, was to befriend the gorgeous, blond, young man I found hiding out in the kitchen.
And really, any ulterior motives that I might or might not have had with regard to the stunning little stud I'd found in that kitchen really aren't relevant to the story, so just pick your mind up out of that gutter and let me continue my story.