| dewy decimal |
2004-03-04 - 9:21 a.m.
One of my best friends in grade school was kid named Craig who had a mouth full of silver teeth. He lived in Halawa, the rougher area of my city, and played in the little league. He was one of my "mos bestest" friends.
One Halloween, when I was in the third grade, Craig slept over at my apartment where we spent the night carving pumpkins and fashioning dangling bats out of black construction paper, tape and string.
At about 9:30ish we found ourselves in my bedroom, arranging our Transformers over a landscape of jutting pillows and blanket-clevage when Craig grabbed my arm, "Do you want to play homo?"
"Homo, what's that?"
"When a boy makes like he's oofing one nada boy," he was kind of laughing now.
Craig jumped on top of me with my torso between his knees and started jutting his pelvis really violently.
I was like, "Cut it out stupid!" and Craig just kept jamming his hip into my groin and giggling and next thing I know his hand is down my pants and he's pulling on my little dick and it's sore and I'm trying to get up but he's almost 20 pounds heavier than me.
"Get off!" I yell right before I manage to turn myself over onto my stomach and his hand gets caught between my body and the bed.
"Uh uh uh," which was not the sound of fucking but a rendition of what a little boy thinks fucking sounds like. "Uh uh uh uh.." Craig says as he sticks two of his fingers up my ass right before I kick him off and my Mom comes in.
"Hey, whachu guys doing, you buggas? You guys like light the jack-o-lantern or what?"
We walk to the living room and I am feeling shocked and irritated and start fidgeting with the pumpkin seeds at the dinner table and I can feel Craig under the table pinching me hard on the leg. "Ouch!" I yell.
"Dustin, settle down," my Dad warns from behind his newspaper.
I don't know why but I don't tell anyone about Craig. I don't even vaguely understand the concept of sex let alone "playing homo." Who'd have known that one day I'd be such and expert at and Craig would be married with children.
***Why do we love to show each other our kid pictures? To say, "Look I was a kid once too. I was someone way before even you knew me. I have a story, vulnerabilities, loves, and memories you have no idea about. To say, "Hey mister, I didn't come out of thin air you know?" "You should learn to treat me better."
