RichEisbrouch
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After the handcuffs, the guys kept looking for a trick they could play – one that wouldn’t get the attention of Linden or any parents. They grew up on camp stories and would prime themselves with them whenever they were goofing off – between working, swimming, basketball, cards, and seeing the girls. “What the best thing we’ve ever pulled at camp?” Jim asked. “What’s the best thing anyone has?” Paul extended. “While we were here?” “Anything you can remember.” And the four of
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The next time Brian saw Laura, which was the next night, they just danced. Two hours, almost non-stop, but it seemed pretty casual. Other guys cut in, and Brian moved on to other girls, but he and Laura always worked back to each other. Then she got on the bus, and he started to follow. When I went after him, he said, “Nah, I just want to walk by myself.” So he was willing to tell me things he wouldn’t tell Julie. I knew not to ask him anything when he got to the bunk. I’d gone back to d
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I suspect there are far more serious things to get anxious about than worrying about having sex with someone other than the person you've been steadily seeing. But it's fun to watch Brian sweat.
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“I’m kind of torn about this,” Brian said. We were driving to the car shop near Guildford Center – to get a final bid on the paint job. But he wasn’t talking about his car. “In one way, seeing Laura should be fun – something we’ll enjoy then easily be able to forget. In another, I don’t like lying to Julie.” “I understand.” “It’s not like me – at least, I don’t think it is. And it makes me feel lousy.” “Have you done it before?” “What?” “Lie.” “No.” “You made
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“Got another Nate story for you,” Andy told me one afternoon. “When did this happen?” “Last night, after you left.” “Still hot news,” I joked. “Yeah – if anything about Nate is hot.” “You must think so.” “Nah – it’s what I said on the train – he’s interesting. Other guys’re hot.” He just looked at me and didn’t offer a compliment. But I knew he was playing. “Tell me your story,” I said. “You make it sound like punishment.” “Oh, please, Andy. Tell me your f
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Canuk -- yeah, well, Dan's actually a little hot. I suspect all the guys are in the readers' minds. And ObicanDecko -- thanks for the compliments. As I've mentioned, this almost complete rewrite of the first novel I wrote, in 1982, was specifically tailored for this site -- the first time I've done that.
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The thing Dan found in the Norwich junkyard, that he figured might be a lot of fun to play with, was a pair of old police handcuffs. The first time he showed them to the guys, and used them when some of us were playing cards, Paul suddenly found one of his wrists attached to his chair. “Now how am I supposed to play my hand?” he asked. “You’ll figure it out.” “Did you do this ‘cause I was winning?” “Nah. You were the closest.” The handcuffs soon came off and were passed aroun
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Thanks. I figure there's no reason to spend time writing about people no one likes or wants to hear about. Of course, the guys in the Alan Damshroeder books and some of the men Harry dates in GWM are no great samples of mental balance. But that writing is more extreme comedy of bad manners. Still, I think younger gay men are better balanced, perhaps from growing up in a more accepting world.
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“Now that we’ve done it against a tree, what next?” Andy asked. We’d finished up teaching and were walking back to the boys’ camp. “We could take advantage of my plans.” He laughed. “Oh, yeah – your plans.” “You underestimate them.” “I don’t underestimate anything. I certainly didn’t with you.” “I’ll simply say ‘Thanks.’ That would be the polite thing.” “And you’re a polite thing.” “Quit making fun of me.” “Why? It’s fun to watch you squirm.” “I don’t do t
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Yeah, well, he's an eighteen-year-old boy, trying to do his best.
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“What was that about?” Nate asked, the moment Brian walked into the bunk. “You’ve been waiting up?” Brian said, smiling. “You weren’t in the Canteen.” “We were for a little while. It got loud.” “And?” “There’s no rule against taking a walk.” “Where?” “I walked Laura back to the girls’ camp.” “All the way?” “To the edge. Maybe a little past.” “That’s all?” “Yeah.” “And?” “That was it.” Brian was laughing, and he was in a very good mood.
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As mentioned above, and as I knew as I was writing the book, "This is the throw the book across the room chapter." Or as one of my friends said, "Where it all drops off into metaphor." Except she's a straight woman, and the rest of the book may not seem metaphor if you're a gay man.
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Keep reading. Then you can reply, "WTF?" again.
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As they reportedly used to say in the carnivals, "Close, but no cigar." And not even close. Don would have recognized his son.
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Is Katy Perry still in her rebellious phase? Interesting perspective. Thanks.
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Yep, it's always been my strength. Thanks. I'm weaker at plotting though because that's less the focus of comedy, and that's my larger interest.
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From what we know of Scoot, he was probably out seeking adventures at an early age. I doubt he stood still long enough to be kicked out of any place, let alone his home, where he was loved.
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Around the same time, Andy and I were messing in the woods, Brian noticed Laura. Or he noticed her noticing him. Or she let herself be noticed noticing him. Complicated. “Who is she?” he eventually asked me. “A counselor I think.” Andy was on bunk duty so wasn’t coming to the Canteen that night. “I knew she wasn’t a waiter,” Brian replied. “She’s too old.” “How old?” I tried to study her unnoticed. “I don’t know... Maybe twenty-one?” “You think?” “I th
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Scoot's an adult, so his parents respect his independence. The narrator, Don, is named in the second line of the first chapter, but, you're right, he's not referred to by name after that. I tend not to use characters' names in dialogue because in reality, people don't do that a lot. So I mainly do it when there are a lot of people talking, and it's important to know who said what. And Don does introduce himself, first name and last, in chapter 10. Thanks for pointing that out.
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One teacher in my high school was still throwing erasers at students in the mid-60s in the States, and only a couple years earlier, a 6th grade teacher locked a student she thought was out of control in a storage closet. And I got punched in the stomach in 11th grade, for lying to a phys ed teacher. But I think parents had stopped spankings by the late 50s, though you still heard them used as a threat, maybe perpetuated by jokes in movies and on TV.
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Tiny cliffhanger, more like a curb. And by now, you've already read the answer.
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I learned to drive a manual shift because I knew I'd be driving small trucks occasionally for work, and many of them were still stick. I've stuck with it because I like it though I'd really like my next car to be electric. Though I'll probably inherit the family Prius. I'd really like an electric pick-up truck. I'd really like an electric engine in my present, old, battered pick-up truck, but that's not going to happen. Besides, both it and my present sedan are relics but unrestored and ought to be given away. People keep wanting the pick-up, so it may get restored someday. But the sedan's kind of ordinary.
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Nah, just typical suburban mother in the area ringing Manhattan. That part of New York City's a playground, and there's too much mischief to get into.
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Thanks. If you keep reading, I think you'll discover Rob knows how to take care of himself. But I don't want to give anything away.
