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BASTARDS WHO FUCKED OVER ME
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10 Sistah-girlfren Loretta.
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Loretta -- Larry -- wasn't a real girl but was about as swishy as
anything I could imagine until I was old enough and independent
enough to observe some of the closety Phoenix gay community.
Larry and his family fancied themselves better than almost anyone
else in Golden Gardens. His long-gone father was American
Mongrel but, to hear her tell it, his mother was full Castilian
Spanish. True, she was that semi-dark you'd expect to see in the
south of France. The kids had dark or auburn hair and an ivory
complexion that would suggest high birth if seen in Mexico.
Larry's hair tended to lighten in the hot summer sun, so one year
he had his oldest sister bleach it out to a carrot red. When my
mother saw it, she about croaked. She knew there was something
weird about Larry but she didn't know what. She thought I
shouldn't hang around with him. I happened to accompany him back
to his house after he came over to let me be the first person to
see his dyejob. His mother came home while he was over at my
place. She saw us coming up the side street from the kitchen
door. She burst through the screen door fit to knock it off the
hinges and stood on the six-step high porch screaming like a
madwoman. I've never heard such passionate, rapid-fire Spanish
before or since.
She called him everything in the book. I got to learn quite a
few new swear words that day. When her energy ran down and she
stormed back in the house threatening to have his oldest brother,
something of a tin hood, beat the shit out of him. I asked Larry
what all she said. Oh, he said giggling, Little things like
'hijo de la chingada' [child of the fucking, i.e. sonofabitch],
'cabro'n' [smelly rutting goat] 'queso de verga' [cheese of a
prick], 'culito' [asshole], 'mecos secos' [dried cum], 'panocha
maricona' [fairy's pussy], and 'cagadita de macho' [tiny shit of
a man; i.e. dingleberry].
Way down at the end of the main street through our neighborhood
was a National Guard armory. The boys came out in droves every
Saturday and Sunday morning. When I had to leave to go to work
or Saturday morning or to go play for early church on Sunday, I
was at the mercy of the traffic. If someone didn't stop so I
could pull out of our street, I was just stuck. I would wile
away the time daydreaming about the discourteous ones. I'd have
my balls on the chin of *that* one, my dick up the ass of *this*
one, or be twisting the tits of the *other* one.
Mercy! Such hostility! Larry and I thought up a practical way
to get revenge. They would pour out of the armory around four
o'clock and we would hide in the oleander bushes in front of his
house with a pair of old radiator hoses. We would blow into the
hoses which amplified and added considerable resonance to the
noxious noises we made. We almost caused several wrecks the
first couple of weeks until word got around among the weekend
warriors. I have a hunch they thought they were being serenaded
by elephants and hippopotami who had eaten a ton of beans each.
Larry was the one person I told *everything* about my venusian
exploits. Larry lived my dissipated life vicariously. He had
never had sex with anybody and was afraid to. I would have been
glad to share Freddy with him just to see him get that PGH
(Pretty Good Honker) buried in Freddy's entrails. I don't think
I would have lent him Gilbert. I would have paid him to give
George (whom Larry called That Halfbreed) a revenge fuck; Larry's
"clitoris" was as big or bigger than George's weenie. And of
course Larry would not party with me. He said if we did shit
together it would make us LESBIANS!
His mother drove him to high school and I got in on the deal for
some gas money. We became inseparable. We would walk a couple
of blocks from school and wait for her at his aunt's house in the
afternoons. While we were there, a Good Humor truck usually came
by and parked on the main street. If we had money, Larry would
tank up on calories. I would do a pretty good job of cheating on
my diet as well. We cruised the cute guy who ran the ice cream
truck. We were terrible teases. I think he would have played
had we not been total jailbait.
We, along with Jack the "jack" Mormon, and Dale (another big Okie
from the southwest side of Phoenix) were all in the high school
honors choral society. You really had to be able to sing to be
in this group of over a hundred voices. Most kids did musical
purgatory for two years in the smarmy glee club. Larry, Jack,
and Dale were all tenors and were therefore in demand. I was
already a competent organist, so I was begged to transfer. I did
second banana behind some north-end barbiedoll cunt, but I still
got my name listed with the officers in the programs.
Jack was so hung up on his religion and yet was sooooo gay and
horny I thought he would have a nervous breakdown whenever he saw
the ROTC boys decked out. Thursday was Queer Day at PUHS. If
you wore pink or green that day, you were socially fucked. We
found it amusing that the toy soldiers ran around in Army Green
on Thursdays. We never said anything to them but we did snicker
a lot.
We used to spend all the time we could of the lunch hour together
in the shade on the north side of the library. One day Jack came
running out of the library waving an inch-thick black book and
screaming Look What I Found. It was a book called Sexual
Development in the Human Male, and damned if it didn't have
pictures and statistical tables! Through the agency of that book
we discovered that mature penises ranged from ten to eighteen
inches in length. We were all crestfallen.
No. ..... If the book was right then we just needed to grow
some more. ..... TEN inches? ..... Oh, dear. ..... Oops.
That's 'centimeters', not inches. Then we didn't all feel so
bad. I, however, was still feeling deprived. That bitch Larry
just stuck "her" nose in the air. The news really made *her*
day. Then we just teased him unmercifully about how all that
meat was just going to go to waste cuz at least Pauline over here
is very busy swooping on everybody in the neighborhood on three
legs. I was still embarrassed. They said, Oh girl, don't feel
bad; you probably just wore yours out already.
Dale went to the Plywood Estates Southern Babbletist church in
his neighborhood. The youth group talked the old fogies into
letting them throw a toga party. This was in the pre-Animal
House days. Even so, there is only one reason any group of boys
wants to have a toga party. So here are all these cunty-cunt
quit-looking-into-my-sheet girls and all these horny boys trying
to have a good time and look sophisticated drinking pink 7up out
of plastic "champagne" saucers. Sorry, boys, you looked fucking
stoopid. You also didn't get any feels, let alone anything else.
Dale's two cousins were there. Dale had ...played... with his
cousins. Soon Dale and the cuter one were out behind the church
in some bushes. Dale was trying very hard not to make
slobbering noises because this kid was drop-dead cute. How do I
know? Because I followed them. Pretty soon here comes older
cousin. He didn't just fall off the turnip truck; he knew where
whose buns were buttered. I took him on. I was disappointed.
Cuteypie over there had a nice little breakfast sausage on him.
I didn't have much to work with here, but I gave it the ole
highschool try. The more I sucked on it, the more it grew. I
couldn't believe what I'd done. This little cork swole up and
was damn near as big as Freddy's cousin Frederick's!
By the time I finished off my one of the cousins, the one Dale
serviced had gone to tell the boys what the draw was out back.
Pretty soon we had a loosely formed very nonchalant line. I
don't think the girls at the party noticed a thing or there would
have been hell to pay. On the other hand, maybe they figured
this would take the pressure off them and they wouldn't be nearly
as likely to be mauled on the drive home. When we got back to
school the following Monday, Larry and Jack had to hear all about
the toga party. I said, Lemme put it to ya this way, girls: It
was a church, right? Well, we were on our knees BUT WE WEREN'T
DOING ANY PRAAAAAYING! (
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