Episode 11 — Cosmo Conquers Com-Con

There are few places on Earth where faded stars burn brightly again, and Com-Con is one of them. A sea of latex, nostalgia, and questionable hygiene — the perfect habitat for a man like Cosmo Farfetch, who has never once passed up an opportunity to be adored.

It was also, more importantly, far away from Big Merv, who had recently checked himself out of hospital against medical advice and was roaming the suburbs like a jilted lover in a musical. Witnesses claimed he was singing Total Eclipse of the Heart as if he truly believed he was Bonnie Tyler.

Cosmo, still traumatised from the warehouse incident — or at least still dining out on it — saw the convention as his chance to revive both his bank account and his self-esteem. The warehouse, with its chains, disco ball, and faint smell of despair, was mentioned only when he needed sympathy, which was often.

As it turned out, nostalgia has a powerful pull. And so does leather. Bad Boys Go to Mars, Cosmo’s old “art-house sci-fi erotica” film, had become a cult favourite amongst kink communities and alternative cinemas. When Cosmo arrived at his booth, he discovered a queue stretching so long it practically demanded traffic control.

Onstage, Cosmo delivered the full monologue — the famous, unhinged, hermaphroditic passion speech, without the fake tits and prosthetic dicks, that made critics groan and kink communities applaud. And for a moment… he shone. Under cheap stage lights and the smell of popcorn chicken, Cosmo was a star again. Every bad decision, every unpaid bill, every kidnapping attempt — eclipsed. Tragically, Cosmo never understood this simple truth: his talent wasn’t the problem; his behaviour was. And remains so.

By evening, Cosmo had earned enough in photo ops and merchandise to pay off every last bill haunting his fruit bowl. He left Com-Con triumphantly, clutching a fat bag of cash, certain the universe had forgiven him.

And then morning happened.

Cosmo awoke in an unfamiliar hotel room wearing a leopard-print G-string and a lime-green vest that did not belong to him. Miles was beside him — naked, face down, rear up — adorned with lipstick marks that matched the shade smeared across Cosmo’s own mouth.

The bag of money? Gone.
Their dignity? Questionable.
Their memories? Missing.

What they could remember pointed in one direction: a twink dressed as He-Man; suspiciously charming, suspiciously muscular, and apparently in possession of Cosmo’s funds and Miles’ modesty.

This disaster, naturally, would require its own sequel.

#CosmoFarfetch #cultsci-ficomeback #queercomedyfiction #camphumour #chaotictriumph #BadBoysGotoMars #episodicqueersatire