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Today was a very special day for the Curtis household. For today, a seemingly average hot day in mid-July, was the day that the youngest Curtis child would finally come out as a brother. Unfortunately for him, the oldest of the bunch, Darrel, would have some concerns:
“...Why the fuck would you choose Ponyboy?”
“They let you pick any name you want when you get down there!”
“AND YOU SETTLED ON PONYBOY?”
“Yeah, it was between that or Mohammad.”
“WHY THE FUCK WOULD IT BE BETWEEN THAT OR MOHAMMAD?”
As his two brothers bickered, Sodapop Curtis perked up his widdle perfect head from the couch.
“I don’t know, I think Ponyboy is a nice name.” He gave a charming smile. “Dad would be proud!”
“You see, Darry? Soda likes it. You’re just a hater.” Ponyboy stuck out his tongue to his oldest brother. He had been considering this name for a long time. Other names were too boring for him, he was special. He was different from the other girls, mostly because he was a boy. He wanted to show off that he was one by having ‘boy’ right in his name!
“Yeah, Dad would have wanted you to be named after his two favorite things in the whole world; Ponies and Boys.” Soda studiously replied. The sun glistened through the window in just the right way so that his hair was dappled with gold, much akin to a portrayal of the Greek god, Apollo.
The oldest brother rubbed his hands in his face in defeat. “Look…Ponyboy… You know I support your transition, but I feel like I’m taking it more seriously than you.”
“I am serious! If I ever get sick of the name I can just change it again.” Ponyboy waved his hands. “It’s the 60’s no one cares! We literally know someone who only goes by Two-Bit.”
Soda nodded gracefully and tousled his god-like hair. “He’s got a point. My name is Sodapop. Legally.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t PICK that! Ponyboy could have picked anything, including Mohammad!”
“And I picked Ponyboy, what’s the problem?”
Darrel sputtered, like a tractor that was very old. He had no comeback and said through gritted teeth, “Nothing. I support you.” The veins on his neck throbbed with allyship.
—----
The vacant lot was decorated with green balloons, streamers, and a large banner that said “It’s A Greaser!” Two-Bit had just set down a large chocolate cake as he spotted the Curtis brothers making their way down the street. “Hey, they’re almost here! Johnny, get out your weird video box!”
Johnny slipped his iPhone 3 that he inexplicably acquired out of his jacket pocket. He began to record as the other greasers shouted “Happy Transgender Day!”
“Awww you guys should’nt’ve!” Ponyboy gave a gay little hand wave. He glanced at the cake. It was decorated with bright green frosting and had the word “brat” written on top. He didn’t know what that meant, it was probably something from Johnny’s future box. “How did you know chocolate cake was my favorite?”
“Because it’s the only thing in your house, you moron.” said Dallas, taking a long drag off of his cigarette. “So when are we chopping off the hooters?”
“We gotta let him eat cake first, Dally. You can’t have surgery on an empty stomach!” Two-Bit ruffled Pony’s hair.
Tom Cruise was also there.
“And I can’t perform surgery on an empty stomach, neither!” Sodapop joked, stuffing his face full of Brat cake (exquisitely I might add). Little did Ponyboy know that the boys actually made the cake for Soda. Johnny had shown the iconic Charli XCX album, brat (2024), to Soda from his iPhone about a month ago. Ever since, Soda has been, as they say, “bumpin’ that!~”
“Well, let’s hurry it up. I gotta wrestle Tim Shepard bare-chested in the mud at noon.” Dally checked his watch. It was already 11:30. Tim was gonna be pissed.
“Ah, he can wait. You do that every Thursday. Johnny, play some transgendy music on that weird radio of yours.”
Johnny nodded and loaded up Spotify v.5.0.8. He started cranking Weezer’s Weezer (1994) as the festivities began.
—--
After absolutely decimating the Charli cake, the greasers headed back to the Curtis household, where Darry had been setting up the surgical equipment. He had made it as pristine as possible. It was unfortunate that Pony couldn’t go to the hospital and get top surgery from an actual professional surgeon, but it was the 60’s in Tulsa, OK. Sodapop was their best bet, since he had played “Operation” once.
“So, from what I understand, there’s gonna be metal bars around Ponyboy’s internal organs. And if you get too close to them, his nose will beep at you.” Soda had all of the boys lay Pony atop the dining room table, fitted with the shittiest plastic tablecloth they could fit. Soda looked like a younger, more handsome version of George Clooney on E.R. in his lab coat he bought for Halloween one year.
Meanwhile, Darrel was already arranging funeral plans for Ponyboy via the phone. “Yeah, closed casket. I think this is gonna be messy. Make sure there are marigolds, he loves those.”
Ponyboy shifted on the table. He exhaled shallowly. “I’m nervous, Soda.”
“It’s gonna be okay, Pony.” Soda nodded to Two-Bit elegantly, who was behind Pony with a huge metal pipe.
BWAAAAAAANG!!!!
—----
Once Ponyboy was knocked out, the operation went by smoothly. Within a few hours, the 14-and-a-half year old greaser came to and saw Darry and Soda standing over him. “How do ya feel, Pony?” Soda asked gently, like he was talking to a wounded horse, or perhaps a pony.
“Bad.” He replied. He had just gone through improvised top surgery, so needless to say he could not move a muscle. He craned his neck around to look at all the other greasers. “Wait- where’s Dally?”
“Who do you think took your boobs?”
Ponyboy looked to his side to see Dallas Winston laying on another dining room table, with a sheet over his chest that had now grown substantially. “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
“Well, at least Tim will be impressed.” Two-Bit chimed.