Jared Axelrod

This story was inspired by seeing an ad for a store here in Philly called Phag. Phag is not, as I hoped, some sort of gay fantasia of department store–you know, someplace where you walk in and Carson Kressley shows you an array of silken shirts while Kyan Douglas offers to do your hair–but instead a tasteful, quirky home furnishings store. This, naturally, led to me imagining what a gay fantasia of department store would be like and what sort of person would shop there.

Clearly, the best person to shop at such a store (named “Phagget” in the story), would be some sort of combination of P.G. Wodehouse’s Uncle Fred and Patrick Stewart as Sterling from “Jeffery.” With a dash of Lord Whimsy’s sartorial excellence for good measure.

The result is one of the most fun characters to write, well, ever.

“Darling, I love you, you look horrible.” Uncle Auric was never one to waste any time for pleasantries when he could go straight to criticism. I hadn’t even sat down for lunch yet, and already he was digging in. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was dreadful of me. Did some die? Is that why couldn’t dress yourself this morning? If that is the case, my deepest condolences.”

“No one has died, Auric.” I knew where this was going. “I look fine.”

“Fine. Yes. Well.” Auric snatched up the menu and pretended to be interested in it. “Fine. As in, ‘adequate.’ As in, ‘bare minimun. Well, I suppose you’re covering your naughty bits so all is well with the world. Your job is done, isn’t it?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was not a conversation I wanted to have today. “Look, not everyone has your flair for fashion, Auric.”

“That is a misfortune that I am keenly aware of,” said Auric, slapping down the menu onto the table. “Timothy, when you first came to his city, you were but a babe, lost in the woods, most beast than boy, more boy than man. Your parents-and bless their poor souls that they aren’t here to witness how far you’ve sunken—your parents came to me and said, ‘Take care of this poor child. Make sure that his fair face is shielded from the elements, that he dresses like the proud young man we hope him to be, and that he finds a nice Jewish boyfriend.’ Now you, in the hot-headed folly of impetuous youth, may feel no need to follow the requests of the couple who brought you into this world, but I tell you, I take my charge seriously!”

Auric knew that bringing up my parents would normally bend me to whatever whim he had in mind. But not today. “My parents have no problems with the way I live. And they did not ask you find me a boyfriend.”

“Perhaps not in mere words, Timothy, but certainly in sentiment…”

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