Leon Kompowsky

When I was ten I hated shoes. Not the wearing of, of course, and well, maybe hate is too strong a word. Certainly I wasn't excited by the prospect of new shoes, and so on Christmas morning when I unwrapped my main present to find a shoe box, I was confused and slightly disappointed (ungrateful, I know). I pretended to love my new shoes when my mum giggled and informed to look inside. I opened the box and there lay Michael Jackson's History double CD. I pretty much hit the roof and spent the rest of the day, and rest of the next few years, listening to nothing else.

A sad and strange day.

Glen or Glenda?

Circa 2004.

A young Andrew stands in line to buy a sausage sandwich at his younger sister's netball game. Sideburns blowing in the breeze, speckles of pube-like facial hair spread across his chin; he feels like a man. He writes about himself in the third person.

In front of him a tired looking woman wrestles with her restless daughter. The little girl twists and jumps and almost pirou-freakin-ettes right onto Andrew's foot. She immediately ducks behind her mum, embarrassed. Mum tells her to "watch the ladies toes".

2009
Andrew is at work. A party of sixteen occupies the main table; they are not regulars. As lunch time dwindles most of them scatter. Three stay behind.

Andrew glides up to the table to collect their empty dessert plates. One man, an older gentleman, says: "Thank you ma'am." Not only is Andrew apparently female, he is also old as fuck.

---

Luckily he realised his mistake and apologised. I should have said: "It's nothing, I get it all the time, really. I'm actually dating a lesbian, I just don't have the heart to tell her..."