Billy's Head Is Pasted On
Billy is tired and annoyed. It's two thousand bloody four and journalists are still confusing him with Dom, asking him what it was like to work with Elijah Wood and Viggo Mortensen--you'd think they'd at least want to know what it was like to work with John Rhys-Davies and Sir Ian Holme, but no. No, of course not. The whole bloody internet, the world at large, and all the rags are convinced that working with beautiful people means that the entire set is like one long episode of Eastenders or something equally as obnoxious.
And everyone was thoroughly convinced that he and Dom and Elijah were some sort of... of troika. Except Billy associated the word troika with evildoings, which would actually be rather interesting. Sex, especially sex with people who used to be his best mates, was not interesting. Except, apparently, to Americans.
Repressed, the lot of them. And Dom and Elijah always made sure to wink and smile when they denied it--of course, their publicists and managers and whatnot probably told them to do it. Drum up interest and all that rot. Easy for them to do, since people interviewed them about other stuff, too, and not just what it was like to wear rubber feet and sit in a bloody fucking tree.
Even Ali didn't believe him.
"Just because you're a slut doesn't mean we all are," he snapped at her, and she flounced out of his flat, and let the door slam, and that was the last he'd seen of her for weeks now. But it was true. Even if he had slept with one of them, which he absolutely had not, that didn't mean he would sleep with all of them.
He had the sneaking suspicion that Ali really got off on the idea of some sort of Hobbit orgy, which was sick, if you really thought about it. Sure, Astin wasn't the ugliest bloke in the world, and neither was Elijah nor Dom, but--but--but it was just sick. Couldn't fellows be mates without a bunch of pervy girls wanting them to be doing each other up the arse?
"Dude, just give the fuck in," said Elijah on the phone. "Give the public what they want, and they'll stop harping on it."
"How about we make a bloody video of us shagging and send it to the associated press?" said Billy, and rang off.
He received an email from Elijah later that day. Are you serious? Because I am so there!
It was a disease. A disease that affected everyone. Even Viggo, who was doing these things with Henry's computer now called "photo manips", sending them off to everyone.
"It's not really you," Viggo had explained to Billy. "I'm just pasting your head onto the bodies of porn stars. It's an art."
"Couldn't you have stuck to painting?" asked Billy.
Appeals to Ian and Astin and even PJ went unheeded. "Boys will be boys," said Ian, winking.
"Maybe I'll put a chapter on this in my book..." said Astin, rubbing his chin. Billy rolled his eyes. And get PJ to sit still for five minutes to talk to him about anything, why don't you try!
Billy took to kicking things to get his rage out, but had to stop when he stubbed his toes. The girl at the American hospital eyed him while she wrapped up his two smallest toes on his right foot. "Aren't you that Hobbit?" she said. "Didn't you, like, make out with Elijah Wood?"
He kicked her, and she posted a picture of the bruise on the internet, and told everyone that he and Elijah were fighting, and some tabloid rag picked it up, and the next thing he knew, he had Dom on the phone, half chastising Billy for hitting on his boyfriend Elijah and half laughing at Billy's predicament, inviting Billy out to Hawai'i to meet the new bloke he was working with on that stupid television show.
Billy did not understand why Dom, one of the only survivors of a plane wreck, would have such a neatly tended beard. He wouldn't even mention that charging polar bears really wouldn't be found on a tropical island.
Dom and his new costar Ian seemed to get on well, so one day Billy borrowed a digital camera from one of the locals, and took some pictures of them sunbathing nude, and sent them anonymously to all the magazines he could think of. The headlines were outrageous, but instead of getting people to stop asking him about his own sexual relationship with Dom, people only asked more! The nerve, thinking that he and Dom and Ian Somerhalder, of all people, were a troika!
"If I was going to be in a troika," Billy told one journalist firmly, "it would be with Dom and Elijah, not Dom and this new bloke. And we wouldn't be shagging--we'd be taking over the bloody world."
The part that made it into the papers, of course, was the part about how Billy wanted to shag Dom and Elijah. The next time he saw Elijah, Lij clapped him on the back and said, "Dude, I knew you were into it. That het thing was just a front this whole time, huh?"
Billy kept a smile on his face for the cameras. "No, Elijah," he said through clenched teeth. "That 'het thing' was not just a front. I do not want to have sex with you."
"Yeah, right." Someone came up behind Elijah and Billy and put an arm around each of them. "Everyone wants to have sex with Elijah."
"Thank you, Josh!" said Elijah cheerfully, and winked at Billy.
Billy sighed. Viggo sent him a "photo manip" of himself with Elijah, Josh, Dom, and Ian.
That's not sex, wrote Billy. That's a bloody gang bang!
Viggo's reply was to send another, with the note: your head is pasted on!
"Oh, yay," said Billy, rolled his eyes, and turned off his computer. He thought about kicking it, but the kicking thing didn't work out so well the last time. Instead, he threw it out the window, locked all his doors, and made himself a nice cup of tea. The world was full of maniacs, a thought he reflected on for a few moments. They were all of them absolutely mad.
He was maddest of them all. How many people in the world wanted to have sex with Dom and Elijah? And Billy could, yet he didn't want to. Or maybe he did want to. Maybe his homosexuality was such a secret, even he didn't know.
That had to be it. After all, it was like Josh said, everyone wanted to have sex with Elijah. Everyone except Billy Boyd. What was so special about the kid? And sure, Dom was funny, but he wasn't dead sexy like some other blokes Billy could think of. If Billy was going to shag a bloke, it would be someone--someone like Colin Farrell, who obviously knew what he was doing. That was it.
Billy was decided. He would shag Colin Farrell, and that would prove once and for all whether he was gay or straight. Colin was a good Irish lad, so he would go at it with the single-bloody-mindedness that all crazy Irish folk had. And he had an appreciation for good beer, enough tattoos to make it clear he didn't mind a spot of pain, and a lovely backside. Or so said Orlando, who always noticed that sort of thing.