ShapeShifter Fiction: The Tragedy of Sonny Levy


Mitchell walked into the catering room and tossed the magazine on the table in front of Daniel.

The drummer paused, a burger halfway to his mouth. “What’s this?”

Mitchell chuckled. “Just read it. Wait ’till you’re done or you’ll wind up with dinner all over it, though.”

“I’m warned?”

“You’re warned.”

Daniel watched Mitchell walk over to the catering buffet and start dictating to the staff. When it came to his food, this wasn’t entirely Mitchell being a dick for the sake of being a dick. The guy really did want his burger fresh off the grill and the bun lightly toasted. The only reason no one mutinied and told him to suck it up was because he’d wait while they cooked it properly. He never complained, even on the nights when it took longer than it should have.

Shaking his head at Mitchell’s quirks, Daniel turned the magazine so it was right-side up. The cover story had been written by their buddy Kermit Ladd, the world’s most pretentious reporter. The guy lived to inject himself into the story.

The victim this time had been Sonny Levy. No real surprise there; the guy was hot stuff. Everyone wanted a piece of him — and the guy was responding. Not in the usual way, sucking up to the press and declaring them to be his new best friends. Nope. Sonny was the latest guy on the fast-track to burning out before he got another day older. In short, Sonny was an OD waiting to happen.

Daniel looked the article over.

“Your ever-inquisitive intrepid reporter, Kermit Ladd, was brave enough to face the hassle that getting near Sonny Levy has become. He’s been a wealth of gossip of late, and that meant there was only one man up to sorting through it all.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. Yeah, it was typical Kermit. That was the problem: he was tired of seeing it. It was old-hat by now and boring as shit.

Until it got good, mid-way down the first column. “Watching Levy on stage makes one realize the man’s pain is there for the world to see. And what pain it is. The man is clearly so deeply in the closet, he suffers the delusion that his fans can’t see it. If it were up to Sonny Levy, there would be belief around the world that no gay man moves the way he does. Not to mention the crocheted shawls he likes to wrap around himself.

“Any human being who needs to keep himself this far into the closet would wind up an addict. There is not an addiction expert on the planet who would disagree with yours truly.”

Shaking his head, Daniel closed the magazine. Mitchell hadn’t been kidding; it was worthy of spewing dinner on — although Daniel wasn’t sure if it would be disgust or utter amusement. Kermit was reaching on this one. He’d be lucky if Sonny Levy’s people didn’t sue him for it.

He mentioned that to Mitchell, who brought his plate over. It was piled high with potato chips, so many that the burger was buried. He, of course, had a second plate piled equally as high with salad, probably tossed fresh while he waited for the burger to cook. And between his fingers, dangling precariously, was a bottle of Italian salad dressing.

“Better he’s fucking up with Sonny than us. Fucker may not even notice what Kermit wrote. If it was us…” Mitchell shook his head and swished some of the potato chips out of his way. “He wouldn’t write his mom a letter ever again.”

“Think there’s any truth to it?” Daniel asked, holding his breath. He knew the answer. Of course he did. The whole world did.

“Absolutely,” Mitchell said and took a bite of his burger.

Daniel wasn’t sure which was the bigger tragedy. That Sonny was such a mess, or that Kermit had grown some balls and decided to share that mess with the world.

Some Three Word Wednesday fun for you, that’s also linked up at the Weekend Writer’s Retreat. And, hey! Kermit is always for himself, so that fits the Sunday Scribbling prompt, too! I’ve been busy with the kids so far this summer and have written next to nothing. Have no fear, though, what time I DO have despite those rugrats is being spent on Trevor’s Song. News of that to come as soon as I get a moment to breathe. Ahh, if they’d only put Wi-Fi in at the pool!



  1. Nara Malone

    July 4, 2010 12:27 pm

    It’s sad that doing something well enough to win fame, wins an open door into that closet Sonny thought he’d locked tight. I can see how that could lead to a need to escape. I hope the exposed skeleton does him some good in the end.
    .-= Nara Malone´s last blog ..Me =-.

  2. Robin of My Two Blessings

    July 4, 2010 1:57 pm

    Wi fi in the pool. Now there’s a thought. Have a great 4th.
    .-= Robin of My Two Blessings´s last blog ..Happy Birthday America- =-.

  3. Granny Smith

    July 4, 2010 8:43 pm

    I’m always in awe of your writing ability on this engrossing novel! Keep it coming!
    .-= Granny Smith´s last blog ..Me Then and Now =-.

  4. Alice Audrey

    July 5, 2010 1:50 pm

    I thought for sure Daniel would be surprised by Mitchell’s response. Great writing.
    .-= Alice Audrey´s last blog ..Win a Copy of How to Engage an Earl =-.

  5. ThomG

    July 6, 2010 9:44 am

    very engrossing writing here. I liked the depth of character, in such a short piece.

  6. Dee

    July 18, 2010 10:17 am

    Read this while I was in Florida but the silly internet wouldn’t let me comment. Loved this peek at the other side of trash journalism 🙂
    .-= Dee´s last blog ..July 18 =-.

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