The story Joel didn't want told

“Is that everything?” Asks the clerk with an upbeat tone.

“Pack of Du Maurier Light King Size!” States the customer without looking at the man behind the till.

“That’ll be $14.76, please.” The tellers voice is so full of life and vigor, but it wasn’t always that way.

His name is Joel. He works six days a week at Rolf’s convenience store. He loves life.

How did his life get to this plateau of perfection? Let me tell you.

I’ll start with the summer of 1996. Joel just finished grade 11 with honours for the 11th straight year. He was ready for four months of playing video games and watching movies.

He was much like all the other nerds; such as Court, Jamie, Mike, Dane and the rest of the video-game posse.

Well, Dane was cooler than the rest and much better looking. All the ladies wondered why he wasted his time with a bunch of losers, but that’s a different story.

Joel, like the rest of the group, couldn’t wait to sprawl on his sofa, sip soda and navigate the levels of the latest game.

His summer came and went. He bragged about the number of games he finished. He retold the plots of movie after movie.

The rest of the gang were bored with Joel’s seemingly endless tales. We were all there. We all played the same games. We all watched the same movies.

Joel saw the tiresome look on his compadres’ faces and knew it was time for a change, and change happened.

Joel wandered into Will Sinclair High School on that brisk October morning. It was only seven days until he turned 17, and the metamorphosis was complete.

Joel opened the school door and entered, with his head held high. His thick glasses slid a centimetre down his nose, but it didn’t matter. No one looked at his glasses. They were staring at his hair.

Joel rid himself of his bowl haircut and actually styled his hair, with gell.

Actually no one stared at his hair. No one except for his immediate circle paid any attention.

But this haircut altered the course of Joel’s life.

Let’s skip three years down the road. Joel was studying at SAIT. He had the goals and dreams of becoming a computer geek, and was well on his way.

It didn’t happen though. Joel might tell you it was his computer getting stolen that made him leave the technical institute. Don’t believe him. That’s just his cover.

The real story began one Thursday evening at Loco Lou’s. It was students’ night and Joel was getting tanked while discussing HTML with a couple of classmates.

Joel was heading to the pisser to break the seal, when he was approached by a man. A tall man in a business suit.

He had a proposition for guy who celebrated Dane’s birthday kneeling in front of toilet in the Republic.

“Are you interested in making some serious cash?” Asked the man with a lisp. “I’m looking for a someone. That someone could be you.”

Joel had a blood level twice the legal limit and would have done anything.

The Will Sinclair grad followed the man to his house.

There was a studio set up in the guy’s basement.

“I just need to take a couple head shots,” said the suit-wearing man.

He fired off a couple shots of Joel, and sent the 20-year-old on his way.

Two days later, the man called Joel at his apartment on Frobisher Boulevard.

“Hello, journalist in training Dane speaking. How may I help you?” Asked the guy who had just been accepted into the Mount Royal Journalism program.

“Is Joel there?” Inquired the voice on the other end. “I have some work for him.”

“One moment please, and I’ll grab him,” said Dane as he handed Joel the phone, who was sitting on the couch or Jay’s bed which were one in the same. Dane walked to the balcony to wave at all the girls who were hoping to get a glance at him through the window.

“Hello,” Joel spoke into the mouthpiece of the phone.

A two-minute conversation followed. It ended with Joel saying “see ya soon.”

Joel left the apartment right after. He took only the bare essentials.

Little did Dane know, but he lost a roommate that day.

Joel headed to the Calgary airport, where he met the man he first saw a few days prior.

The man handed Joel a plane ticket. Luckily Joel still had his passport from his trip to Europe in grade 11.

Joel was heading to Brazil. He had found work as an underwear model.

What got him that job? The scout for Hanes Brazil had liked Joel’s hair. The same hair that he first sculpted Oct. 3, 1996.

Joel’s first show was a success. No one cared about the new fly on the boxer briefs. They all wanted to know who the new model from Canada was.

Joel was booked solid for three months. Underwear show after underwear show, Joel loved his new life. He had a bigger grin on his face than when he found the last esper in Final Fantasy III.

Joel was popular. People loved him. He was the next big thing. He changed his name to Joe L, with a capital L.

The fame didn’t go to Joe L with a capital L’s head like most fashion models. It shot up his neck twice as fast.

Within a week Joe L was hopped up on the stick. The pixie stick. He had a bikini model on each arm, and one night he kicked the crap out of Christian Slater.

Capital L started to get demanding. He wanted his underwear to be fresh from the dryer before each show. The briefs had to be tumble dried with two sheets of bounce.

After the first three months of solid bookings, Joe L’s schedule started freeing up. Like most underwear models, Joe L was about to take a spill from the top. The stick was eating away at his six-pack abs, and their wasn’t enough Visine in the world to keep his eyes white from all the sugar coursing through his veins.

Rock bottom came when he found himself holding a “I will flash my underwear at you for a dollar.” He was living on the streets of Rio.

He lived that way for six months. He ate out of garbage bins and beat up kids for the sweet sugar.

Joe L’s life altered again. It was July of 2001. The ex-underwear model peered into a window. He saw a kid playing a super nintendo.

The pure joy on the kid’s face made Joel cry.

“What have I become?” Joel shouted in the air. “I’m a monster. A monster I say.”

The outbreak landed him in the slammer, which grabbed the attention of the Canadian Embassy, which got Joel a trip home.

Joel returned to Rocky Mountain House. He bounced around a few friend’s places before landing in a room in his mom’s trailer near Leslieville.

Rolf gave him a job at the store, and life was on the up and up.

Now whenever Joel feels like using an AK-47 on his next customer, he remembers the little kid playing video games’ face and thinks about the hell he lived in Rio.

Next time you see Joel, ask him about the tattoo on his ass that says "Pele.”