The Smallville Slasher

I often go down a local book store called Hastings  to write during the week. If you don't have a Hastings in your area, I am sorry. You're missing out. They are a wonderful little place that sells books, musics and movies. They also have little cafes in them, that serves your basic coffee stand sort of fair at a reasonable price. They provide free WiFi and you can sit at a chair for hours on end with headphones in and no one will bother you. My local Hastings happens to be familiar with Sullivan (the service dog) and I, and are always happy to see us and considerate of giving us plenty of space while I work.

But one of my favorite things about Hastings is the people watching. Like any other coffee store a variety of people filter through the cafe. And more. Because the rest of the store attracts all kinds you get the opportunity to watch some interesting people. And like most writers I find people watching entertaining, inspirational and highly distracting. And the best case of people watching is that of the Smallville Slasher.

During the summer I would escape the heat at Hastings to work on various writing projects. And continually I kept seeing the same kid. He was the sort of interesting looking that isn't unattractive but is just unusual. He had pale skin with obvious freckles and curly bushy hair that wasn't quite red, but wasn't committed to being brown either. He usually wore sweat pants, or baggy shorts. A pair of grungy sneakers and socks that were the same color but weren't quite exactly the same. And almost always a tee shirt relating to some comic book super hero, in particular he seemed fond of Superman. The first time I saw him he had a Netbook with him and would type furiously into it for short bursts then stop and appear to re-read what he had just written. He also had a stack of Smallville DVDs for rent sitting next to him.

My conclusion was obvious: clearly he was writing Smallville Fanfiction. And because it was me making the assumptions, I figured it was probably Slash fanfiction. I was hooked.

Now most writers of this generation have cut their teeth one way or another on fanfiction. And most of us, especially those of us who write gay romance, can admit that we've probably read (or written) a few slash pieces featuring our favorite male leads from books, movies or television. Hell, I've written some (and if you ask nicely I might share it with you.)

I quickly became sort of obsessed with this man sitting near me at the cafe. He was younger than me, and while I thought of him as a kid, he was clearly in his early 20's. He was so fixated on what he was doing that he never seemed to notice the interest I took in him. I began writing on my (personal) Facebook page about him, telling any one who would listen about what he was doing, and my theories about the stories he was writing.

My fixation on him only grew when I kept running into him. I had no idea if he ever noticed the way I would write about what he was doing, but he didn't seem to mind. He would furiously type away, always in short bursts. Than he would stop, sip from his drink or glance through a magazine about Smallville. I began thinking up covert ways to get his picture to share with other people, who were beginning to become intrigued by him as I was. 

The 1st photo I ever got of him. The cellphone
acrobatics I had to do to get this would make
a Russian Ballerina jealous.

So last summer and early fall it was a game for me to see if I could spot him. And as an added bonus it continued to encourage me to go to the cafe to work, though admittedly I got very little work done. I was too busy updating every one of my Facebook friends about what he was doing, and trying to figure out how to sneak a picture of him.

My game became even more exciting when I started spotting him on the street. I reverted to my childhood self, always looking out for slug bugs, only now I was hyper-vigilant trying to spot the Smallville Slasher. I would try my best to get a picture of him from my cellphone every time I saw him, while also trying not to run some unsuspecting Prius off the road.

No Priuses (Priusi? Priusee?) were harmed in
the taking of this photo.

I realized today that the cold weather has driven me indoors, and my trips to the cafe are not nearly so frequent or exciting since I have not spotted the Smallville Slasher anywhere. I like to think he is back in college, and that his commitment to walking around town stored for warmer weather. And hopefully come the warmth of spring and summer I will see him again, walking down the street with purpose and a grocery bag in one hand, or a backpack over his shoulder. Or I will see him at the cafe working on his next great work of Smallville Slash Fanfiction. One can only hope.

I think it's in the nature of writers to gravitate towards writing the stories of the intriguing people around them. I see strange people on the street and I wonder about their life story. I find myself deciding a course of events that lead them to be where they are at that moment. And like the Smallville Slasher, I tend to give them names. Usually something that relates to what I see them doing; for example: the tall skinny guy who is always holding a mattress store sign on the corner of a major intersection that I see routinely as I drive by has been dubbed Tall Scrawny Sign Dude. I feel fairly certain I am not the only person on the planet who does this. And while I have been challenged about my psuedo-stalking of the Smallville Slasher, I suggest all is fair. And nothing is stopping him from doing the same to me. I wonder what he calls me?

This is here just to demonstrate that weird
people are often on the side of the road
in Boise. Nemo here was promoting
the Idaho Aquarium.
"What, and give up show business?"