VIII

SOMETHING ELSE: The more time we spend together, the more I get to know him, the more I begin to think that MAYBE BEING FLIP KELLY isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, either. WHAT? I know! Pretty bold statement. It’s true, though! I’m beginning to think it’s all just surface sparkle and twinkle-twaddle with him. And that underneath that whole swoon-doggy-surf-hunk exterior, he’s really pretty dark and cloudy. Troubled, even.

What makes me think that?

For one thing, he sure spends a lot of time here. With me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. Hubba-Hubba, right? But it makes no sense. I mean, this ain’t no “Big Rock Candy Mountain,” I can tell you THAT. And I’m no Fipple Flute Fairy, if you know what I mean. . . . (Just go with me here.)

And HE’S FLIP KELLY!

Why isn’t he out being a superstar? Why isn’t he out partying, and getting laid, and doing all those cool things that cool kids do? You know. Like . . . um . . . illegal drag racing . . . and break-dancing battles . . . oh, I don’t know. You’ve seen the movies. Whatever cool kids do when I’m not around.

My point: If it’s so great being Flip Kelly, why does it seem like he’s hiding here?

 

Here’s a clue, perhaps: He doesn’t talk about his parents or home life. At all. When I ask, point-blank, he gets all monosyllabic and changes the subject. Word on the street (by that I mean, Blah Blah Blah) is that his father rides his ass, really pushes him hard, like, to the point of abuse. He demands absolute perfection. And doesn’t seem to recognize it when it’s right in front of him!

 

So THAT sucks.

Then factor in the whole hero-saint-role model complex, and the expectations everybody places on him, and the inability to deviate from his image . . .

Yes, yes—all things considered, I’m thinking it’s probably pretty difficult being Flip Kelly, the boy king.

Heavy is the halo, you know.