This was sparked by the idea of the four actually being who they were. It's not quite as humorous as the others. I mean no offence by the ideas I express through it.

Thomas was hard-pressed to keep from groaning. Luke was his best friend, sure. It was just his little sister that brought out Thomas's homicidal urges. She was annoying, frustrating and whiney. Not to mention she had definite gender issues.

"But Luke! I wanna book! And it's my birthday! You're supposed to be nice to me!"
"Fine, Daphne. Get whatever you want."
"Thank You, Big Brother!"

Somehow, I think she missed his sarcasm. The little girl bounces into the shop. We move to follow her. She runs out, frowning.

"What's wrong, Daphne?"

Luke may act uncaring, but he's incredible protective of his baby sister. She wriggles out of his hold. He grabs her again and pats her down, making sure she's unharmed.

"You're alright?"
"I'm fine! It was just a bookstore."
"Then why're you crying?"
She sniffs haughtily. "The stupid shopkeeper dinna let me see da gory books! She said I'd get scared! Scared! I dunna get scared! Girlies get scared!"
I feel obliged to interrupt "Daphne, dear, you may not have realized, but you are a girl."
"No I Not! Suzie girl. Ellie girl. Maggie girl. Me no girl!"

As I said, gender confusion issues. Luke's considering taking her to a child shrink, but doesn't want to subject his poor innocent darling to the curious public.

We make an odd collection. There's Daphne, a whiny gender-confused brat. There's her brother, Luke, who all but raised his sister after their parents were jailed. Jailed for child abuse. He never talks about it. Whenever anything to do with violence or the past comes up, he gets tightlipped and cold. He never sleeps a night through without nightmares. If anyone needs to see a shrink, it's him. He has repressed anger issues. That's part of why he doesn't like being exposed to violence. He feels drawn to fights. I'm not sure, but I think he used to be a gang member.

Then there's Sean. Sean Price. He was born on the street and bred on the street. As soon as anyone learns of that, they look down on him. Thing is, no-one realizes unless they're told. He has impeccable manners and is prone to broody silences. People are more likely to call him an aristocrat than a street rat. He's quite in voice and body- you never know he's there until he wants you to. I guess its part of being brought up on the streets.

Then me. What to say about me? People call me a ladies' man, but I'm gay. Haven't got around to telling my parents that. They're Christian, strongly Christian. I was Christian until I realized I was homosexual. As the two are mutually exclusive, I had to choose which one to be. I chose to be gay and be myself.

That happened when I was twelve. I landed in an orphanage at twelve. I'm an orphan, but my parents are still alive and kicking.

Sometimes I wonder why I chose homosexuality.
More often, I wonder why they chose Christianity over their own son.

That's us. The messed-up trio and their tagalong brat.

I can't say I like Daphne much. I don't dislike her because she's a whiney kid with gender issues. No.
I hate her because she's had a nice life. She's grown up with a loving, protective brother. I'm jealous of her innocence. I hate her innocence. But her innocence is also the reason I'd protect her to my last breath.

With a resigned sigh, I follow her into the twenty-third bookstore we've visited.
I look up at the counter.
I see the reason that I chose homosexuality.

Damn, he's HOT!