The Gay Agenda: To Not Die of a Heart Attack Because Authorities Assume You have AIDS in Your Spit
30 Jun 2021Today’s prompt: “Take the bare facts from a court complaint or investigation at ACLU.org and retell them as a full descriptive narrative.” [I’m working from this case.]
In a town like Welch, West Virginia, people know when you’re gay. They see you leaving the gay bar. They see you out with your boyfriend. They see you out with your gay friends. They watch and they watch and they watch.
One day, you were out driving with your friend Billy when you felt some discomfort in your chest. “Must be something I ate,” you tell Billy.
It was not something you ate.
Your whole body goes stiff. Your foot slams down on the gas and your truck veers off the road. What is this? Is this what a heart attack feels like?
Billy grabs the wheel and manages to jam his foot on the brake and pull it over. You’re still trying to get control of your body – still trying to breathe. Billy sees you struggling. He jumps out of the truck, runs around to your side, opens your door and screams your name. You’re just able to turn your head toward him, and relief floods his face that you’re still alive.
He undoes your seat belt and tugs you by the shoulder to try to get you out of the truck, but you don’t budge. By this time your face is turning bright red. Billy pops open your mouth and checks to see if there’s anything you’re choking on. Nothing, and you still aren’t breathing. He shakes you. You gasp. Billy looks relieved again, but now lays his fingers on your neck to check your pulse. He doesn’t feel much of anything. He hits you in the chest. Again. Again. Your heart starts to beat again. Billy can feel it through your shirt. You keep trying to pull in shallow breaths. Billy starts giving you CPR as a police car rolls up.
Police Chief Robert Bowman gets out of the car and yells at Billy, “Get back! That guy’s got AIDS.” Billy didn’t see he was a police officer and he ignored the chief. He could tell the CPR was working.
Bowman grabbed Billy by the shoulders and pulled him off of you. Someone called out, “That guy’s HIV positive.”
“Yes, he is,” Bowman said. “Stay away from him. We don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I got him to take a breath,” Billy said, wanting to make sure someone would keep giving you CPR until the ambulance came.
“We’ll take care of it,” Bowman said. He pointed to a spot on the curb. “Go sit over there.”
Billy sat down and stole glances at you in the pickup. Bowman started directing traffic.
After a minute or two, Billy was getting worried. He gets up and tries to look in the truck window to see how you’re doing. Bowman motions another officer over and talks to him in a low voice. The other officer walks up to Billy. “We need you to make a statement,” he says. “Come over here.” He leads Billy to his car.
Billy keeps staring at your truck as he answers the officer’s questions. He never sees anyone go to the truck until the ambulance arrives, about ten minutes after your heart attack. You die 35 minutes after you arrive at the hospital.
For the record, you never had HIV. Not all gay men have HIV. Duh. And HIV is not spread through CPR. There’s never been a recorded case of anyone being infected with HIV by giving someone mouth-to-mouth.