Artoolio and Dylan


Police Statement of: Dylan Stone
Date of Birth: 7-04-1955
Occupation of Witness: House Cleaning Services
Address: Franklin, TN

My name is Dylan Stone and I am the owner of Man Maid, Inc., a house cleaning service for gay men, lonely women, or any one desperate for a home makeover. I was called in by police to answer questions about my best friend, Artoolio Sharpino, and his mishap.

Artoolio, an accountant, and I have been friends since I moved to Franklin over 10 years ago. In fact, he was one of my first customers. Since he was close to my age, somewhat of a loner, and much more masculine than I, he was the perfect foil for me to bounce off my many barbed, but comical remarks. He was uptight about his sexual orientation, unlike my self, but he was not one to hide it, either.

Things started becoming tense with us around the Kerry-Bush elections. I had always considered myself an Independent, and Artoolio was a devout Republican-something I never understood. How could he vote constantly against his own self interests? And ever since September 11, he even joined a choir at The Church of Christ. I didn’t even think they tolerated people of our kind, and I guess I was right. Anyway, things got worse. He began to take all that Republican rhetoric to heart: “You’re either with us or against us,” and that insipid “shop til you drop” mantra that so many sacrificed themselves for in the name of helping America win the battle against terror. Well I wasn’t falling for any of it.

Soon, Artoolio had the biggest American flag protruding from his mailbox. He sold his car for the biggest Hummer he could find. At first I found the Freudian implications amusing, but I began to seethe with fury. Not only were these gas guzzlers, but they were extremely unattractive. His house had also become a haven for purchases that were never opened. There were unopened boxes of things throughout the house, i.e., a Soloflex machine, cat furniture, Christmas villages, and build it yourself birdhouses.

We had been bickering for weeks over our political views and what was happening to our friendship, but we decided to get together for his birthday and lay all politics aside. My date and I arrived at 7:00 PM. Imagine my surprise when I saw his Hummer covered in bilious magnetic bumper stickers calling Kerry a flip flopper, Bush a cowboy, and one proclaiming his disdain for welfare mothers being kept cushy on his dime. In a rage I moved all the bumper stickers to the roof of his truck. I ran back to my car and pulled out a bumper sticker I had longed to place on that tank of his for some time with the words “Gays Love Bush, Too!” At least this slogan was true, I thought. I wanted the world to know how ignorant my friend was.

I felt vindicated when he opened the door. He and his boyfriend were wearing matching “W” sweatshirts and slippers! How dare he! This was supposed to be a bi-partisan birthday. I kept my cool throughout the evening, even though there was much to endure. Republican screeds were strewn all over the place. Had Artoolio no respect for himself? These people hated him for who he was and here he was supporting them. Puh-leeze, there was one book, “Bulimia, Coulter Style: Eat A Liberal, Throw It Up!” Believe me, the night hit rock bottom when we were served “W” ketchup with our Liberty Fries. That was it for me! I thanked Artoolio for a nice evening and left. I swore then our friendship was over.

This morning I received a call from the police to come down to the station. They had found Artoolio in the church parking lot beaten to death. I was able to identify his body, but I couldn’t get the image out of my head of that small wooden cross embedded in his forehead.

Well, there you have it. The truth is that some gays love Bush, too, and people should be aware of it.

Why people vote against their own self interests still baffles me.

Am I in trouble?


Dylan Stone