The Wake

As I clicked my blue, size 0.7mm, BIC mechanical pencil and started to sign the application form for the Mr. Superblock ’07 competition, I was in utter ignorance of the seedy underworld of corruption and crime I was about to enter. A world of such unrivaled vanity and pretension, no man can survive its evil. I’d entered the world of male pageants, and would never be able to find my way back out.

You’ve heard the occasional horror story, and you’ve maybe even caught the tail end of a related “Dateline” report, but even a fully detailed firsthand account couldn’t prepare you for the grim realities. But that’s exactly what I’m about to give you, partially in an attempt to slay the demons currently living within, but also to bring crashing down the incredibly naïve and half-lit way you currently see this cruel world that we all claim home.

“I think you’d make a really great contestant Carl. And how could you pass up a chance at the prize money?!”

And with this very statement, it had all begun. I was hooked that easy. It wasn’t long after that I could be found hustling about, in search of that perfect evening wear combo, or that perfect set of swim trunks. “It’ll be a laugh if nothing else,” I’d tell myself when thinking on the coming event. If only I had known …

I arrived at the Coffman theater, excited and ready to please. Although I was a clean half-hour early, the backstage already closely resembled a British pub after Wayne Rooney’s red card in this summer’s World Cup (or Normandy if you’d rather). Several arguments were in progress, most on the verge of fisticuffs. One contestant was bending over a garbage can to lose some last minute pounds; another was down to the ground for a quick set of 50 push-ups. I walked through the mayhem, head down, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Just who the hell are you?” I looked up to see just whom this aggressive inquiry had come from. To my chagrin, it was none other than renowned male pageant contestant John Delpergang. At 6’4”, with smooth white skin, those tight red curls, and the sexiest walk in the biz, he was simply untouchable.

“Hey, I’m Carl Car…” Bam, an uppercut to the ribs. He walked off casually as though this was standard procedure. The judges standing near could only turn away, pretending not to have seen.

I walked back to the dressing area to change. In one corner was a hunched figure, back turned and pants on the floor. He raised his right arm, and a glistening needle came into view. His arm shot down with great pace, aimed directly at his right ass cheek. I looked away just in time but couldn’t avoid hearing the loud yelp, followed by a shout of “I am the alpha male!” In the adjacent corner stood a man wearing a purple Speedo, a balled up tube sock in his hand. He looked up and caught me observing. “Hey! Can I help you?!” I neglected to comment, trying to look busy unpacking my things. Instantaneously, he was there breathing heavily inches from my face. “Oh what, you’re too good to stuff? You play by the rules?” I wrestled free from his grip on my arm and ran from the room. He stepped to the doorway and yelled after me, “Cut the self-righteous bullshit man! You’re no better than me!”

The pageant moved quickly, and I somehow found myself having survived the first two cuts. With each passing round, the backstage violence and sabotage doubled. Nothing was too immature nor to dangerous for these contestants. Would your contacts be soaking in vinegar when you went to put them in? Possibly. Did a fellow perform an entire tap dance version of “Somewhere over the Rainbow” with several tacks in each shoe? He may have. Was the life of not only myself, but of my entire extended family, threatened regularly throughout the evening? Yes, pets included.

But are you ready for the worst of it? The part that truly disturbs? I liked it. By the end of the show I’d arranged the kidnappings of more family members and bribed more judges than any other clown in that pageant. And as I stood on that stage, Mr. Superblock cape resting on my shoulders, I couldn’t have been more satisfied.