This is NOT bad fiction. It is pathetically bad NON-fiction!

Jake pulled the thick Norwegian wool sweater over his muscular chest and giggled when it tickled his six-pack. He pulled on the springy bright blue leotard pants and slipped his feet into an over-sized pair of Ugg boots. "Ugg!" he murmured with disgust. "I guess its showtime!".

Checking the address of the ritzy but decadent "Horseshow Fork" LGBT bar on his laptop, he slipped out the door, locking it behind him, checked his pocket for the new packae of condoms, and headed out for a night on the queasy part of town.