From Caterpillar to Big Fat Gay Butterfly!

Reginald Broflofski just couldn't get over the loss of Noodle Poodle, his one and only love

Why it seemed like just yesterday that they had whispered sweet nothings over breakfast on the veranda.

But then, with one lap of its salsa breath tongue, Horror Grill rent them forever assunder.

And now all that remained of Noodle Poodle was a cold plastic urn beside the bed they once shared. And also a shelf. Noodle Poodle had loved that shelf and he would have wanted it this way.


Oi, the loss. Reginald could sing showtunes about it if he weren't weeping so damned much.

He coped by harrassing the college students who'd sold him Horror Grill.

And painting dubious portraits of his tenant/neighbor Heterosexual Baseball Cap Joe.

The hours passed by like kidney stones, but still he couldn't bring himself to make espresso, work at his chic boutique in the barrio, or make sock puppets. He couldn't do anything but think about poor Noodle Poodle.

But then it was like five o'clock, and his horoscope said it was time to move on.

Move on to Club Queer to be specific.

Yes, cutting a rug on that sparkly gay linoleum.

Was surely the best therapy a boy could get.

Reginald was in the back room catching up on a little Rachel Rae...

When he was approached by a tall stranger in dark, mysterious socks.

Before Reginald knew what he was doing, he had invited him back to his duplex.

tr> Mysterious Socks was highly impressed with the studio Reginald had built in Noodle Poodle's memory.

In fact, the argyle-clad gentleman had such a profound understanding of Noodle Poodle's art, and their conversation got SO deep...

That Reginald lost track of time.

All he could remember were strange dreams frought with Freudian imagery...

And waking up completely refreshed.

TO BE CONTINUED!!!