He’s on his back patio and wearing only tighty whities. The fabric is ripped away from the band in several places and it’s riddled with stains of all sorts of colors and in all sorts of shapes. Usually it’s only him and the birds and the sun and the hum of the far away thruway, but today he has company. A neighbor on the other side of the fence. The daughter of the neighbors, home from college. She’s on the phone and it’s on speaker and she can’t see him drinking coffee in his tighty whities because of the new privacy fence he put in last week and he hears every word.
“Is Jimmy home yet?”
“No, next week I think. His parents put in this huge fence.”
“How big?”
“It’s like, ten feet tall.”
“No way.”
“Whatever, the thing is huge. It’s like they’re hiding something.”
“They probably are. They’re fucking weird.”
“They’re okay.”
“Probably into some weird sex shit.”
“Ew. I don’t want to think about that.”
“What? Didn’t you fuck Jimmy in the ass with a strap on?”
“Oh my God.”
“Did you or did you not fuck Jimmy in the ass with a strap on.”
“You know I did.”
“There you have it. Like father, like son.”
“That’s so gross.”
“He’s twenty and been getting pegged for years. His dad is like fifty. Just imagine all the shit he’s into.”
“No. Stop.”
Usually he wears a robe over his tighty whities. It’s a black robe and it’s plush and it smells like straight ass. He couldn’t say how long it’s been since he washed the robe. He couldn’t say how long it’s been since he washed the robe because he doesn’t think about it. He only thinks about it when he first puts it on in the morning. He thinks, This smells like straight ass, then he stops thinking about it.
“What? You don’t want to imagine his dad puckering his asshole for you?”
“Ugh it’s probably so hairy.”
“So hairy.”
“It’s like fur.”
“Right? He’s so hairy that you can’t even call it hair. You have to call it fur.”
“It’s like, more body hair than I’ve ever seen.”
“His body is like a terrarium. Like layers in the rainforest.”
“He’s always wearing those tank tops too.”
“Yeah, what the fuck’s up with that? It’s like he’s showing off how gross he is.”
“Jimmy shaves his back already.”
“Told you. Like father like son. Why else build that huge fence?”
“They did build it after Jimmy moved out.”
“Exactly. They held back all those years. Now they’re just freaking out right next door to you. He probably has a dog fetish.”
“What? No, that’s disgusting.”
“Not like he’s fucking dogs. Geez. Like he is the dog. Like she walks him around the backyard on a leash butt ass naked.”
“All that fur.”
“Yeah, it kind of makes sense. Or maybe it’s her that has the fetish. He’s so fucking hairy, she’s probably into that. Like she’s always had a dog fetish, you know? And they had to do the role playing thing inside.”
“Or like, go out to the country or something. Like they’ve been waiting to take it outside for years.”
It’s not because the robe smells like straight ass that he isn’t wearing it. It’s the privacy fence. The new eight foot high privacy fence. The privacy fence makes it possible. Possible to wear only tighty whities. This will make it two weeks in a row he’s had his morning coffee on the back patio in just his tighty whities. It feels daring and feeling daring feels free and feeling free feels exotic.
“I think she kind of hates him.”
“Even better. She probably beats him like a dog.”
“Bad boy!”
“Fucking his ass in the backyard.”
“He’s like, barking.”
“Yeah but like those little whiney yelps. Yo! And she’s making him shit on the floor so she can rub his face in it.”
“You’re fucking gross. I’m gonna throw up.”
“Over some innocent dogshit fetish?”
“For real though, I wish I could take a shit.”
“You’re still backed up?”
“I’m telling you, I can’t shit. Really, it’s been, like, three days.”
“You taking your magnesium?”
“Yeah, I take a couple pills every day.”
“Oh, you’re still on the pills?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m on straight powder, girl.”
“Powder?”
“Three fifty milligrams.”
“Every day?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Whoa, if I took that much I’d just have diarrhea all the time.”
“Yeah girl, I’m strictly diarrhea.”
“I mean, you could take less magnesium.”
“Nah, I like diarrhea. It’s more satisfying.”
“Kinda fucked up.”
“Every time I take a shit it’s like, Ahhhhhhh.”
His wife bought him new tighty whities but they are still in the packaging. He told her, “But the band is still good,” and he pulled the band away from his body to demonstrate. The fabric ripped further. He let go of the band and it snapped softly against his body hair. She looked at him with disgust. His wife didn’t use to look at him with disgust but now she looks at him with disgust so often that he doesn’t even notice it because it’s the way she normally looks at him.