Wordy Wednesday: Gabey Kotter and the Sorcerer’s Throne – Prologue

Gabey Kotter’s eyes fluttered open slowly, as he grunted the grunt of a newly awoken man. The taste of stripper and cheap tequila still hung heavily in his mouth as he sat up, ready for another day eating Hot Pockets and surfing the web for pornography.

“Holy Mother of Cock,” he shouted, as his head’s upward progress was unexpectedly stopped by a protrusion out of the wall. ‘Who put a goddamn shelf above my bed?’ he thought, as his hand felt the bloody gash on his forehead. ‘Unless,’ as his eyes came into focus Gabey realized he was not in his bed, ‘I got drunk and passed out in the pantry under the stairs again.’

Gabey groped blindly in the dark until his hand found the door handle, and he tumbled haphazardly out into the hall.  Picking himself up, Gabey stumbled down the hall to the bathroom where he examined his battle wound. The shelf had left a nice cut in the shape of an ‘L’ in the middle of his forehead. “Fuck, that’s gonna leave a scar.”

The smell of bacon caught Gabey’s attention, and so he headed for the kitchen, a large clump of toilet paper pressed to his aching head. In the kitchen Gabey found his housemate Alonso at the stove. Looking away from his frying pan Alonso saw Gabey’s bloody face. “Oh my God Gabey, what happened?”

“Shelf,” Gabey muttered. “Bacon. Now.”

“Oh, of course sweetie,” Alonso said, scooping several strips onto a plate for Gabey. “That’s all for you though, the rest is for my Freddie.”

Fred was Alonso’s life partner. They met after Alonso saw Fred’s band play a gig, and while the law forbade them to get married, they had taken to calling themselves the Dursties, after Fred.

“Oh, and Gabey, you got some mail.”

Gabey grabbed the envelope from the counter as he sat at the table and, biting into several pieces of bacon he tore it open. A tattered looking letter fell out, and with a bemused fascination, Gabey picked it up:

Gabey put down the letter to see Alonso staring attentively at him. “Well, what did it say?”

Gabey looked at the letter, and after a while decided it likely wasn’t actually self-destructive, rather it was written by a crackpot. Chomping down the last of his bacon, Gabey went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “I’m gonna be a wizard. Or a chef.”


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