For all that Jack thought things were hell; this, he decided, was straight hell. Straight men went to hell where little butterfly, bee colored, costumed men trapped you in a sticky pink stuff that was rather like something one didn't discuss in polite conversation, and being questioned by said men. Not only was this straight hell, it was beyond hell for a gay man.
"Hey! This fairy is not into this sort of bondage, so let me go!" Except, Jack had the sneaking suspicion that no one was going ot let him go until he answered their questions. All of them. So in rapid succession he answered:
"My name is Jack, these are the docks in The City, no I have not seen butterflies coming out of the sewers or Rosie O'Donnell's mouth - which is rather like a sewer. She is horrible for the gay community, you know. And if you are getting me a sandwich, make sure it has the fat-free mayonnaise. I don't want to look like Will."
It babbled out in one endless stream of words. One that left Jack gasping for a breath at the end and wishing he could plug his nose with a hand... if he were to have had a free hand... which he did not. The docks were smelly. They sort of reeked in the way that lesbian bar reeked.