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BASTARDS WHO FUCKED OVER ME
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15 Us boys under the tree out by Camino de los Winos
with the hydraulic therapy.
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At the dead end of the main street through the Golden Gardens
tract was the National Guard armory, and on the way were two
other tourist attractions. One was the city jail annex and the
other was across the road from it, a stand of ancient and
enormous cottonwood trees whose limbs bent to the ground. The
drive into the jail complex, and by extension the old track into
the farm parcel across from it, was called Camino de los Winos in
honor of the majority of jail residents.
The grove stood in the center of a 30-acre parcel which still
bore the marks of having been plowed and sewn for some crop many
years ago. The plot had a large and important irrigation lateral
passing through it. This small canal still fed water to Golden
Gardens into smaller ditches made in alleys. At certain times of
the month, each land owner was permitted to let water flow into
his yard or acreage.
The stand of trees and their shade made a wonderful play area for
the kids in the east end of the neighborhood. The big ditch
close by was just deep enough for swimming when fully charged.
The Salt River Project had a constant campaign in newspapers,
radio and television warning all and sundry of the dangers of
swimming in their properties. Those who were so inclined did it
anyway. The nearest public pool was miles away and cost money
besides.
I rarely ventured out that far east, preferring my haunts in the
river bed to the west where there was a group of small gravel
pits which had taken on water both from airport drainage and from
underground sources. These pits were a bit treacherous because
most of them had steep sides. Once in, climbing out was
difficult. The banks were thick with stands of bullrushes and
other semi-aquatic plants. Dragon flies were thick at certain
times of the day, and bull frogs sang to their mates in the warm
evenings. Some of the kids fished the waters for carp. But
almost nobody swam in these waters because there were rumors
about water mocassins.
One summer day I decided to go out toward the National Guard
armory to look for junk. The edge of the river bed was illegally
used by many people and businesses as a dump. I found some neat
things there. For a whole year I kept myself in scratch paper by
using the backs of invoice copies dumped by the P & M Foods
Company. I found everything from old radios to fix up to
embarrassing items of personal hygiene.
I found two Atwater Kent receivers which only required tubes to
have running again. Another find was a watertight radio
transmitter to be used in some sort of search and rescue. It was
yellow, big, and heavy. It had a handle on it inside a screw-off
cover. Larry and I turned the handle to see what would happen.
There was another port with a spool of wire in it. We decided to
unwrap all the wire and see how long it was -- about 50 feet.
Then we decided to crank some more. As we cranked, we heard
clicking noises from inside the box. Pretty soon here came a
couple of weekend warriors in a National Guard truck. They
stopped and asked us who we were and where we got that yellow
box. Turned out the box was in working order, should not have
been thrown out, and we were transmitting an SOS message by
cranking it! They just took it away from us and told us to mind
our own business.
Among the finds in personal garbage was a batch left by some
folks who must have been having an awfully good time in the
bedroom. There were condoms strewn about, some used, some not.
I wondered what "vaginal jelly" was. Then I thought about it and
Larry shrieked, Omigod! Don't you know what a vagina is? He
continued, That's stuff ladies put in their pussy for when they
fuck. It prevents babies, too. I wondered how it did that.
Larry opined that it must destroy the jizz some way. I couldn't
throw it down fast enough.
We gathered up some of the best tasteless finds into a cardboard
box. Some of the wierder things we wouldn't touch with our
hands. We picked them up with pieces of newspaper. We found
some kitchen utensils I have no idea what we would ever do with,
but we thought they were too neat to let lie. We even found a
bulb thing you could use to put water into storage batteries
without getting it all over. I was going to give that to my dad
because he was always having to put water in the car battery and
he did it from a jug and made a mess.
On our way back to our houses with our finds, we passed the lot
with the grove of cottonwoods. There were a bunch of boys
horsing around under the trees who hailed to us. I guess they
wanted to see what we found. We went over and showed them the
stuff. The oldest one was named Gene. He and Larry were good
friends but I only knew him by sight. Gene had three brothers,
all of them hanging out together here in the shade.
They'd been in swimming. Nude. Everybody had their pants back
on, dammit, except for next oldest brother Gordon who was running
around butt nekkid. We were all sitting or leaning against low
limbs of the trees shooting the breeze. Gene took great delight
in embarrassing Gordon by telling Larry and me that Gordon got
shit on his pants. We razzed Gordon, Like don't you know by now
not to shit your pants? Gordon said he wouldn't've shit his
pants if Gene hadn't tried to cornhole him.
Larry busted out laughing and I was dumbstruck. Is this why
Larry and Gene are such good friends? Is Gene porking Larry and
Larry is playing Little Miss Innocent? And, if so, why would
Gene want to fuck his own little brother? Larry looked at me,
and I wagged my head No. I wasn't going to volunteer to help
Gene out. I don't go for public scenes, but if Gene was going to
give us a show I sure as hell would watch!
Larry rooted around in our box of treasures and came up with the
water bulb. He told Gene, You could fill this up and clean out
Gordon. Gene thought that was a good idea. He ran over to the
lateral and filled the bulb with sun-warmed water. When Gordon
saw what was planned for him, he tried to take off but remembered
he didn't have any clothes on. The two smaller brothers laid him
out in the dust with a thump. I guess they were anxious to see
their elder "get the business" for a change.
Gene knelt down next to Gordon's butt and squirted the water into
his butt, pressing the bulb flat. Gordon said, You bastard,
that's cold! Gene said, Shut up and take it like a girl. Gene
ran back to the lateral to reload and gave Gordon another squirt.
Then Gene told him to go behind this particular tree where they
had a hole dug for a latrine. Gordon made his squat and then
jumped in the lateral to wash off.
Why do I think these boys were plenty into it? Because Gordon
didn't have anything more to say. He laid over a low branch and
let Gene come at him. The two smaller brothers stood around
watching and playing with their own hairless dicks. Larry and I
kept a respectable distance -- not that we couldn't see clearly
what was going on -- and stayed out of it.
After Gene finished using his brother, we made some pleasantries
and worked into saying how we had to get back home or our mothers
would kill us blah blah blah. Both Larry and I were pretty
uneasy after seeing this demented display of brotherly love. We
left the squirt bulb with them, figuring they might need it more
than our car batteries. I heard a couple years after I moved
away from home that Gordon got roaring drunk and shot Gene flat
dead. (
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