Categories > Theatre > The Fix0 Reviews
This story is based on characters from The Fix, a musical by John Dempsey and Dana P. Rowe. Grahame decides to take the upper hand. Hints of incestuous slash.
"And just how do you expect to keep the upper hand if you can't even give a decent acceptance
"And just how do you know if I'm even gonna need one?"
"All right, Cal, once more. From the beginning..." Grahame prompted.
Cal rolled his eyes. "I see the future...I see the path that we must...ummm...I see it...no, don't tell
me...What is it I'm supposed to be seeing, Uncle Grahame?"
"Oh sweet Jesus!" Grahame interjected, exasperated.
"Never mind, Cal, I'll do it myself!"
"Cool!" Cal said, pulling off his already loosened tie and quickly leaving the room, almost knocking
the drink out of his mother's hand as he rushed past her.
"Grahame?! You're not serious!" Violet screeched at her brother-in-law.
"Oh, but I am, Violet! That son of yours will never amount to anything. I can't believe I was stupid
enough to take him even this far! Besides, there's still that matter of his...questionable paternity!"
"No, Violet. I'm running and that's all there is to it." Then, very sarcastically, "Are you with me?"
Violet stormed out of the room, shouting, "CAL!!!!" and slamming the door behind her.
"Didn't think so. Oh well, I don't need Violet's support anyway...plenty of others I can count on." He
picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello, Tony?..."
And so, the campaign continued. With Grahame's connections and influence, it was no big problem to
change candidates midstream.
Cal, for his part, was perfectly happy to sit back and watch, which made Violet even more difficult to
deal with than usual...but once she'd had enough of her drug of choice, she was pretty much
useless...which was how Cal liked her best.
"I'll have to remember to thank Uncle Grahame..." Cal mused, as he observed his mother, passed
out at the dinner table once again.
Amazingly, Grahame's popularity had grown exponentially. Not bad for such a late entry.
Somehow the campaign had been able to use Grahame's ...condition to its advantage---playing the
mercy card, as it were.
Although he truly despised the pity, Grahame was perfectly willing to use even that if it would help
get him elected. "Whatever it takes..." He muttered to himself, as he again was compelled to
explain to the press why his handicap would not interfere with the performance of his duties if
"...with an unprecedented 76 to 24% lead, we are predicting that Grahame Chandler has been
elected to the city council in an incredible landslide victory..."
There it was---all over the media. He'd done it. Grahame Chandler had won the city council race.
It wasn't quite the presidency, but it was a beginning. Even Violet was coming around.
"Kissing up, more likely." Grahame thought ruefully. A pity. Violet had her chance---back at
Harvard. She chose Reed---and look what that got her. Grahame allowed himself to gloat...just a
Now there was the matter of the acceptance speech. He would deliver it in little more than an hour.
Better make it good. He closed the door to his office as he began.
"I s--s--see th-- th-- f-f-f-..."
No. Not now. That stutter would do him in for sure.
By now Grahame was literally trembling. So close...Even now, after winning the election, all
credibility would be lost if he stuttered his way through this all important speech. He tried again.
"I see th--th--th-- Oh sweet Jesus!!"
Now why was he able to pronounce that particular epithet perfectly, yet his speech...
Grahame was startled by a knock on the door. "Uncle Grahame?"
Cal let himself in, closing the door behind him.
"Well, I wouldn't have believed it, but you won! Better you than me, Unc!"
"Is that what you came to t-t-tell me Calvin, because if it is..."Grahame seethed at his nephew.
"Of course not, Uncle Grahame." Cal interrupted. "I came to congratulate you. Dad would be
"Would he?" Grahame muttered. "I seriously doubt that."
"So, Grahame--how 'bout that speech?" Cal taunted. "I'm sure you say it much better than I ever
could. Let's hear it!"
Grahame had had enough. "Get out of here, Cal, I don't have time for this!" He raged.
"Oh come on, Grahame. It was obvious from the beginning that it was you who wanted this. Not
me...not even my father. Yes, we all know Mother wanted it, but that's beside the point. It was
always you, Grahame...and now, you've got it. It's yours! What more could you want?"
Grahame looked away.
As if reading his mind, Cal drew ever closer to his dear, crippled uncle.
"Of course..." He said. "It's me you want, isn't it, Grahame?"
He came even closer, until the two men were face to face, with barely room to breathe.
Grahame practically fell into the chair that so conveniently waited behind him.
"Yes, Uncle Grahame. I know. I've always known."
Cal paused for a short moment. "And you know what? I've always wondered what it would feel
Grahame gasped, as Cal kissed him hard on the mouth and began touching him. "Now." Cal
breathed. "Don't tell Mother."
An hour later, in front of the cameras, Councilman-Elect Grahame Chandler began his acceptance
speech. "I see the future!" He declared triumphantly.
"Well, Grahame?" Cal said impatiently. "How was it this time? Am I gonna keep my clientele happy
AND keep the upper hand? Grahame?!"
Grahame was leaning back in his chair. His eyes were closed, and strangely enough, he was actually
smiling. Cal waved a hand in front of Grahame's face.
"That good, huh?"
He laughed, but not too loudly. He was not about to miss this opportunity.
As he left, Cal gently shut the door.