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 "A child only educated in school is uneducated." ~J.  Santayana.

   Cleon {MFM Troi IR Hete.)

   Damn that Zula, she all kind of fine.  She goin out with this white boy,
but she don't mind me looking.  Or anybody, even other girl, I seen her
smile at some.  She show it, but she aint like them other color girls.  I
been with them, too.  Been with her, coupla yeara go, and I don't call back
till I find out, what I missing.  With other girl, even white girl, they
aint like that.  She's the best, and I guess I had to try other girls to
find that out.

   But then she start going with that white boy.  But I can still look,
member, the best girl I ever had.

   Then, "Hey," her man sit right down next to me?

   "Whatchu want?" I look at him, sideway, and hold my forehead together.
To show him what I ain't feelin.

   "You like looking at my girlfriend."

   "Yeah, so?" Chuck my head, "Free country, and it aint like she hide it."

   "She shouldn't have to.  Haha, it's all right.  Go ahead and look, she
don't mind, and I don't mind neither."

   "Aite." So I look.  He waved, "Whatchu doin, damn!"

   "Well, If you're going to do it, why try to hide it, like some stalker.
You ain't like some stalker, are you?"

   "Nah, man."

   "Okay, so don't front."

   "Boy you trippen." White boy, tryna talk like that.  "I ain't frontin'."

   "All right," he wave her over, "Then you can look closer, if she comes
over here."

   "You don't mind." I had her, nobody look at my girl like this, they know
what good for them.  But if he don't mind.  "Aite." Shrug.

   "You ever done a threesome?"

   "I ain't gay man!" Get up.  "What is this?"

   "Nothing, it sure ain't gay.  You know the bro code, right?"

   "Yeh?"

   "Then it ain't gay.  She into it, she want a threesome, and you fucked
her once, right?"

   "Yeh," so he know about that.

   "So, if you fuck her again, it ain't gay, just cause I'll be fucking her
too."

   "Hey, Cleon." She come sit between us.  "Relax, he tell you, about it?"

   "He started." I heard enough, "Still ain't made up my mind."

   "Well," she put her arm around me, and her titty on my arm.  Wispa in my
ear, `you wanna do it?'

   "Again?"

   "You done another threesome?"

   "Yeah, but they bisexual.  2 girl?"

   "Yeah, well with 2 guys, it doesn't have to be bi." She wink, "Just try
to avoid eye contact."

   "Y?"

   "No, with me." He laughed, "It ain't gay if you don't look."

   "He my man, and he enough." she turn my head, "But he just 1 man." And a
little white boy.  I know what it is, she member.  "And I always wanted to
try it, wit 2 mens."

   "A'right?" He just aint big enough.  Black girls, aint like she gone
black, so she can go back, he just aint big enough.  Cause he a white boy,
is all.  She just don't wanna say nothin, right in front of him, so she
front.  Steada hurt he feelin.

   "Cleon?"

   "Yeah?"

   "How'd you get that name?" So, we went to they car.

   "Well, my daddy name Clarence, and I'ma Leo.  So, Leon for Lion, and the
C from my daddy."

   "Makes sense." He drove, but she get in back, so I get back wit her.

   "You really ain't jealous, or nothing?"

   "Haha, no.  We love eachother, it's not like I own her, just cause we
got engaged." She showed me her ring.

   "Dat silva?"

   "Steel." Cheap, "But chrome plated." They barely graduated, but he
white. Probly afford better `nat.

   "But, it's not like we're chained together.  She wants this, so I'm
happy to give it to her."

   "Yeh," me to.

   "Huh, you know, about slavery?" If heda said it, I probly snatch his
head off.

   "Yeh."

   "Well, I don't want to be a slave, to my man.  That's sexism, as bad as
racism.  He my man, I love him."

   "And I love her," he nodded, "Too much to try to own her.  She wants a
gangbang, she gets a gangbang."

   "Oh," so that it.  He her man, she own him.  White man guilt.

   "I was never a slave, none of my family were slaves, as far as I know,
hell I'm half Italian.  But my Italian half Owned Eritrea."

   "Wa's that?"

   "Where I from, on Africa." I heard she was African, but she don't say
where.  "By Sudan, Ethiopia, and Djibouti.  But then, my momma had to marry
to be a citizen.  So, she marry my father.  A black man.  He owned her,
till he get killed, then when she remarry, she got deported since he was
Italian, too."

   "Oh," all this history, and geography, when I just want to get down to
business, but then we there.

   "That's why I never want to own her, or try to.  Not because of race,
but because of sex.  That's our premarital agreement.  She'll be my wife,
but I won't own her."

   "And I can be wit otha mens.  Too.  But only if he fuck me wit him.  You
can share, right?"

   "Yeah." She worth it.  She ain't like them.  She ain't a slave, like
other womens.  I can respect that.  Yeh, it weird, doin her with him, but
she worth it.  I missed it, since I found out what I missing.  And now she
say it, I even figure out what it is.  She fuck me, to.  Other girl I been
with, I fuck them.  They don't do much, suck on me or whatever, but wit
Zula.  We fuck, it ain't like I fuck her, and she don't fuck back.  Like
them otha womens, and you know I liket it.

   She told me the rest, she seen racism in Africa.  Not cause she black,
cause she Italian, or her mama.  Her sister, and her step daddy too.  Yeah,
Italy come in, invaded, just like the Spanish, and English done here.  I
ain't stupid, just cause we black, I ain't going to college, but not cause
I stupid.  Ain't got the money, I got work instead.

   But they told me, so I understands.  It aint "Reverse racism," just
racism, either way it go.  We need to stop that, Humanity, as a Race.  That
how racism end, not by white people saying "I don't see race."

   He laugh, "Yeah, that means they don't see racism, because they don't
want to.  Ignoring it Is racist."

   No, what we need to do, what we all gotta do to stop it is stop being
Races, and start being a Race again.  1 Race.  Like her, she ain't mix
race, she human.  I ain't African American, I American.  He American, she
American, and as soon as we all just American (Except the Natives, they
neva was, they just brought it here and call it that) then we can talk
about ending racism.

   And I never knowed how sexist merrige really is.  Not cause I stupid,
but that how we brought up.  We all brought up so I aint seen a real
merrige like them, to even learn it.

   They got 1 ring.

   They take turn wearing it.

   Then, we go out to get dinner.
:

   Zula (MFM Troi Hete)

   All right, first he ain't bigger.  He one of them, tall mens.  He play
basketball, he can dunk, and shoot over most the guys on the court, cause
he taller.  So, he longer.

   I ain't gonna tell him that, cause he colored, and that the one thing
racist admit.  Even if they don't say it, they afraid black mens bigger. 
Not my man, he ain't racist, and he don't care.  He know, hell he show me
it ain't about being bigger, and worrying about it just make it worse. 
White men's fear, that make them hate, and push down everyone else to make
up for it.  So they feel better, about they little dick, when they ain't
even got a little dick, and it won't matter even if they do.

   Or don't, that's racism.  It ain't about the truth, it's about the lie.
That makes racism, but he taller, and longer, so he go deeper, and I don't
even like that.  As much, my man he go all the way.  All up in my business,
but Cleon, he run out.  So, I can't feel him, inside me, and against me,
there always that little bit between us.  He can't hit me with he pubes,
and I don't like that.  I love my man, he can, and I love that, but he love
me 2.  Enough to share.

   That how we stop racism.  We got to stop, worrying about all that
bullshit that don't matter, and accept the truth.  Bigger ain't better. 
White ain't better, they just easier to sunburn.  Mens ain't better, they
just control everything to say that.  Straight ain't better, just easier to
get kids, if you want kids.  I ain't having kids, ain't feeling it, but I
don't love Cleon.  He all right, but he ain't my man.  He can fuck, but I
like him, and I love my man.  Together.  And that ain't all.

   Love, that how we stop hate.  Not in 1 generation, but that how we
start. This generation, here in Teller.  Not our parents, or they, they got
a lifetime of hate save up, and they ain't about to give it up.  But we
start with the coloreds, because they got nothing to lose.  Privilege, the
whites they got to give some up.  The Blacks, and Latins, Asians, we just
got more to gain.  You count them, all together, whites the minority.

   But wit 2 mens, together.  It ain't like wit'the toy, it better, cause
we just got to open me up, and do it.  That toy work, but you got to work
it, and it still a pain in the ass.  I like it, but mens.  It ain't a pain
in the ass, and he strong.  They strong enough together they can pick me
up. Soon as Cleon got over the ass, and learn to love it, but I's deeper
back there, so they can hold me.  All the way in, and my man can hold me.
Kiss me, love me while Cleon fuck my ass.  All up in my ass, all the way
in, so he hit my booty wit' he pubes.

   I just wish I had another, to suck on.  I love that, sucking on a dick.
While they fuck me, we just need to get more.  Mens and womens.  That how
we stop sexism, too.  Not just sex, but love.

   Cleon love me, he said it.  All right, but I love my man, and I told him
that.  It ain't all right, but it enough, if he can be with me.  He ain't
jealous, he aint tryna make me his, he understand even if it aint all he
wanted.  But he a playa, and we don't even hate the game.  I ain't tryna
get pregnent, so we gotta use rubbas anyway.  If he wanna fuck my ass, he
gotta wear a rubba anyways.

   It ain't perfect, but it don't gotta be.  It ain't never gonna be.  But
togetha, we can work, and go to school.  He gonna make college next
semester, cause we work together.  Not the same place, all over town, but
we stronger, together.  Yeah, there still racist, but we aint gonna hide no
more.  We making friends, and lovers, and we getting stronger.  The more
the stronger.  The more love, the less hate can do to stop us.  Till we got
enough to stop them.  Not for our children.  I can't have children, in
pampas, it won't be right.  But for there's, that how love work, you share.
That how we stop hate, the next generation, at least in Teller.  The old
haters gotta die some time.

   So, then we was hanging in the resteraunt, waiting for George to get off
work.  He hooked us up.

   "So den he aksed if we Homo.  So, I sayed 'yeh, I human'." I laughed. 
Wit him, right out where everone can hear us.  They all know we goin out,
together.

   "Darin?" He a bully, a white bully.  Racist, Sexist, Homophobe.  Always
got something to say, to anybody, just the way he is.  Always was.

   "Then I say why don't he aks you?" He ain't my man, I got a man, but
like D.  say, it complex.

   "Well, yes." I put on the Doctor hat.  Not my hat, but he's working, so
I guess I'll fill in.

   "I done know what to say."

   "Cause it aint they business." Nod with him.

   "Yeh, but then, well it ain't public, but he by heself."

   "Well that's different," he usually show off for he friends.  Darin, I
mean.

   "Yeh, cause dat what he aks for.  He think we gay, cause we havin sex
wit you."

   "So, what you tell him?"

   "Well, sorry if I out you, but I say it ain't.  Gay, cause we ain't gay.
Dat whatitiz, he just skaret it make he gay, when ain't nothing make you
gay, less he gay."

   "So," Lean over the table, 'that what it is?' Whisper.

   "Yeh," He nod, "He think so." Homophobia, well, there all kinds.  But
one of the reason for it is compensation.  For those kinds of attractions.
Not to say all homophobes compensating for being attracted to men, but it
does happen.

   "So, he think, well cause he heard about us.  He aks me about it.  So, I
tell him, just about me." The rest ain't he closet.  "I ain't havin it wit
D.  I have it wit you, and so do D.  He yo man, but you ain't," Lower,
'exclusive?'

   "Yeah," slut shame.  I ain't one, but I like Mens, plural.  We keep our
voices down, cause girl do it to.  And it crowded, for the weather, and the
rush between when school let out and dinner.  Kinda loud, but that don't
mean that can't hear us.  We the biggest thing in town, as far as rumors.
What they all talk about, anyway.  Being interracial, and a Menaga Troi. 
It's like mythology, they don't understand any better then the Egyptians
know why the sun rise.  So, they make up stories to front like they know.

   "So, he aks me.  What he aks me fo was if I know anybody."

   'gay?'

   "Yeh.  And black.  Black mens."

   "Do you?"

   "I don'no," he shrugged, "If I do, they don't talk about it."

   ;

   H8r {MM Homo Fear}

   "Hey," he came to me.  So, I said goodbye to my friends.  He didn't say,
but what I wanted to talk about, I don't want them to hear.

   I guess you could call it a front.

   "So, Cleon said you talked to him."

   "Yeah," I looked around.

   "You want to talk about it?"

   "Out here?"

   "Well, nobody can hear us, and your friends already know you're talking
to me." The town freak, but he talked to the, well girls mostly.  They call
him the sex-doctor.  Not because he has sex, but because he talks about it,
when there confused, or they got hurt by it.  Like I said, mostly the
girls. "I know some place more private, if that would make you more
comfortable."

   "Yeah," it's not like, they're looking at us.  All staring at us, but it
feels like it.  Like they are all looking at me, talking to the freak, and
talking about it.  So, he showed me a place where at least nobody can see
us together.  At least he's white, not that I have anything against blacks,
I just don't know any.

   "I'm gay." I finally got to say it.  Out loud, since I finally found
someone, who could understand.

   "I'm not, but I suppose i can sympathize."

   "So, what's with you and Cleon?"

   "Well, that's complicated, and private, but the short answer is we have
sex with my girlfriend, together." Yeah, he told me that, but he's also a
geek.  Not really about Star Trek, or Jap cartoons, just sex mostly.  From
what I heard, but that's why people talk to him, he knows what he's talking
about.

   "But you don't have sex, with him?"

   "Not really.  Huh!  I know, your family, and the way you're raised.  I'm
sure you have a lot of questions, but you feel better, talking about it
now?"

   "Yeah," just saying those 2 words.  "I'm gay." Just saying that, and not
being beat up for it.  Feels a lot better.

   "Relax, so anyway, we tried it, but Cleon couldn't perform, because
he'skrate." The way they say it.

   "You mean, buttfucking."

   "Anal sex." He nodded, "I'm straight too, but not narrow.  I tried it,
with our girlfriend, but I guess I found I'm a bit of a straight bottom."

   "Yeah?" He nodded.  "So you like it." Up the butt?

   "Yeah, but because of, the same kinds of problems, I've never tried it,
with a real man."

   "What with, then?"

   "Fingers, toys."

   "But not a real cock?"

   "No, like I said, well like you I don't really know anyone, who would be
into it.  To try it with."

   "Oh," I think I know where this is going, "Well, I'm.  Not attracted, to
you." Just cause I'm gay.

   "So?  I'm not gay, either.  However, from my experience, I can tell you
that it's tricky, so there's a bit of a learning curve.  You tried it?"

   "Buttfucking?"

   "Anal.  On yourself?" I shook my head.  "Well, it can hurt.  You can
hurt someone, if you don't know what you're doing."

   "Oh," I crossed my legs, "Yeah?"

   "Are you interested in that?"

   "Anal?" I nodded.

   "Hurting someone.  A black man." He guessed, "Sexually."

   "Huh!  I thought about it."

   "Well, it's complex.  Sex is, but in the socionormative context."

   "What?"

   "Sorry.  This gets back to how you're raised.  What you're taught, by
your father?" I nodded.  "And now in school."

   "I graduated."

   "Me too, but we're both in high-school, when they changed the books, and
took out sex-ed."

   "Yeah."

   "Yeah, well, that's not helping.  It's a bit of a plot, to take away the
truth, so people can teach their children, but I have some idea what you're
taught."

   "What do you know?"

   "Just what you repeated.  To front for your friends, but that's how this
spreads.  From father to son, brother to sister, boyfriend to girlfriend,
and abuser-to-victims, this is a system of Hate.  I can't show you the
whole thing, it's too large and complex, so we have to narrow the scope to
your specific problems."

   "Well, I don't hate gays," any more.

   "No, you don't know gays.  Nor blacks, or women very well, I would
think. For lack of frame of reference, context.  You have to unlearn all
you were taught, before we can start understanding the truth.  The reality
of your sexuality, but your self loathing isn't healthy."

   "I know."

   "Well, you feel it, but you don't understand it, intellectually. 
Therefore, you can't think about it rationally, which is dangerous."

   "How?"

   "It can lead to abusive fantasies, which in turn may motivate you to act
them out."

   "What kind of fantasies?" I know what he's talking about, but didn't
know if he knew, what he was talking about.

   "Rape.  Fantasies?"

   "Huh!" I just hung my head.

   "Darrin?"

   "Yeah?"

   "You fantasize about raping.  Black men?"

   "Yeah," I guess.

   "Well, that's what we need to work on, first." He patted my back.

   ;

   Therapist {MM Homo/Hetero Anal Hate/Fear.  NS, Talk.}

   "Well," he got mad, "How the fuck do you guess that?" And loud, not like
black loud, but still, pretty loud.

   "Why don't I take you," back to my place, "Somewhere we can talk more
freely about this." And try it.  Also, I need to think, but it's coming
together.  "Huh!  Well, in answer to your question, from your reactions."
Kind of have to dumb it down.  Not going to digress into a tangent about
the difference between Empathy, which he lacks, and Sympathy, which I hope
he can learn.  "For instance, when I said 'hurt sexually,' you got
uncomfortable, but mostly to hide your arousal, instead of the more
appropriate aversion." Likewise, talking about it analytically helps me get
past my personal feelings, so I can try to help a potential serial rapist,
in spite of how I may feel about him personally.  Because that how it
works, his hate makes me hate him, which motivates him to hate me back, and
escalate with every iteration.  "So, we can try to work on your aversion by
confronting it."

   I lost him too, which made him shut up, and think.  So, I could think in
the interrum, but the pieces were starting to come together.

   "You want to fuck.  Me?"

   "Not especially, but it's not about what I want, nor even what you want.
Deep down inside, it's about what motivates you, and how to get down where
you can confront it."

   "Being gay."

   "No," I tapped his chest, "Love, and Hate." Right over his heart.  "I
believe that's the source of your conflict.  You hate your sexuality, and
blacks, because you're raised to.  Niggers, and faggots.  So, you project
that hate, onto black men, and displaced your fantasy from something
consensual to something abusive.  Rape isn't sex, that's something that's
done out of love.  Rape is something done out of hate, but you hate
yourself, so your sexuality is subconsciously tied to that.  You couldn't
face it, though.  So, you displaced it onto something else you're supposed
to hate."

   "Like Blacks."

   "Yeah," I think.  It makes sense, but doesn't make it true.  The
feedback helps, as does talking about it.  "Maybe we can understand it,
together.  So, it's like a phobia.  Not just homophobia, which isn't being
afraid of Gays.  It's fear of your sexuality, which turns it around to
hate. You can't love girls, so you used them as a front.  You can't love
blacks, because you're taught to hate them, and you can't love men, because
that's gay, so the circle feeds back, and gets stronger with every lap."

   "Yeah," he understands, "That actually sounds about right."

   "So, I think the best way to break that loop may be to try it."

   "With you?" He's not attracted, neither am I, but it's not about that
yet.

   "Let's think back, when did this start?"

   "Being gay?"

   "Well, feeling attracted to other men.  Or, boys?"

   "I don't know, like you said, I tried not to think about it.  But." He
thinks, "Not boys, I guess.  When I was a freshman, so 5 years ago?" He
graduated last year.  Too, we're seniors together, but apart.  We never
really talked, he was in his world, and I was hiding, from everyone, in
Hers.  Shake my head.  "Okay?  Go on."

   "Well, I noticed.  Huh, I heard, but, then I saw them, in gym?"

   "The locker room."

   "Yeah.  You know, their cocks?"

   "So, their size."

   "Yeah, some of them, well.  You know they're bigger."

   "I didn't really pay attention, but on average, they might be."

   "Well, they are."

   "Huh!  There might also be some Confirmation bias.  Well, it's like your
hate-loop." To coin a phrase, "You heard they're bigger, so you looked. 
Probably noticed a bigger black guy's, and that made you feel smaller?"

   "I suppose."

   "So, you focus on that, at the expense of the boys.  As freshmen,
there's naturally some boys ahead in growth, and others behind, but because
of the memetic seed, the stereotype of the Big Black Cock, you noticed
that, and ignored all the smaller ones." So, he's a size-queen, but it's
probably still too early to confront him with that.

   "Yeah." he nodded.  "But, not like.  That.  I started, thinking about.
Him." Capital HIM.  "His cock, getting hard, and I got."

   "Aroused, but that's what triggered your racist homophobia.  So, your
subconscious fights back, that's the inner conflict that drives your sexual
problem.  They reinforce eachother, so they get stronger, and stronger with
each iteration." Over years.

   "Iteration?"

   "Lap.  You ran track, right?"

   "Football, I just practiced on the track."

   "Right," running back, "Uh, okay well that might have been a cover as
well.  I mean, not just a Masculine activity, but also a socially
acceptable to indulge your urges, without actually doing anything about
it."

   "Yeah," he nodded, "I guess, I started to be in the locker room more. 
With them."

   "And tackle them;"

   "Running back, I did some blocking, but mostly had to try not to be the
one getting tackled."

   "Yeah?  Well, either way it may have also reinforced your Violence.  The
violence in your fantacies.  They are violent, right." He just closed his
eyes, and nodded.  Didn't say yeah again, but he crossed his legs.  In the
car, where nobody could see it, not really feminine as much as to cover his
arousal, but his perception of it.  It probably looks feminine to him. 
Sexism, even being gay, he's supposed to be attracted to girls, and yet not
be feminine like that.  Because that's perceived as Gay, faggy, and he
doesn't want to give them any ideas...

   Yeah, it's starting to come together, but it's a Complex.  Not just his
complex, but the socionormative substrate it grew out of.  His family, his
friends, hiding it from himself, the closet, and his closet inside the
cultural closet like a Matryushka doll.  I think, that's my perception, of
his perception, of their perception, of his sexuality.  In denial about it,
but the more we talk about it, the closer my understanding lines up with
his.., and we're almost home.  Where we have the privacy, and the
soundproofing, and the condoms, and the lube to work on it.  If we can, if
I even can perform for him, or he can for me.  I remember, Cleon going
soft. Behind me, before he could even get it in, but I can understand that,
and impotence fears, they help.  Impotence, the fear can reinforce it.  So,
not in denial about it or anything, but don't focus on it too much.

   "Come on," I put up the garage door, can't really pull in with all the
tools, lumber, leftover cinder blocks, and mower.., but we can head back to
our room.

   ;

   Homophobe (TW: Here's where you might run into problems, Gays, Race
Rape/Fant Hack.  That's what this is, hacking his sexuality, so I might get
rough.)

   He pulled it out, and dropped it to stick with a TNGK!  It just wobbled,
on the tip stuck in the top of a 4x4 holding up the arm of a lumber chair
in the corner.

   A knife.  Dagger I guess, more nicks from sticking it there, and pulling
out the leather triangle behind him.  I stood back, swallowed.  "Huh!" He
rubbed his back, and bent over to open a foot locker, drop the leather
sheath in.  "Is that the word, sheathe, or scabbard?" I don't know, but I
saw more in there, with the toys, and bottles of.

   "Sheathe, swords have scabbards."

   He told me, his girlfriend fucks him, with toys.  Maybe one of them was
a strap-on, he shut it before I could tell, but there was a lot of knives
in there, and a sword, it looked like.  I also knew, a lot of girls.  Maybe
all of them wore knives now, but around their necks, even some I went out
with.  My friends, yeah, I talked about the Friend Zone, because I had
trouble, with them.  They didn't say anything, but I didn't tell them. 
Why, I'm not really attracted to them.  Or him, but I can't help but think
about him.  Bent over, his fat ass wide open so she can fuck him with a
strapon.

   "You want to wrestle?" At the door.

   "What, why?"

   "Your fantasies are violent." I told him that.  "All of them?" Yeah? 
"Well, then lets go out and wrestle a little while."

   Fatass.  It's not just because he's white, I guess it's racism, like he
said, it got all twisted up in my head, because hate.  I hated, I was a
hater, so when I started looking at the cocks in the gym, I hated on them,
for what I wanted.  I bet he had a little dick too, but we weren't in the
same gym.  Or even in the same grade, back then.  I got held back, while he
was in advance classes, even skipped a grade, I think.

   "So," he squatted a little, "Come at me bro."

   I looked around.

   "Huh!  There's nobody around."

   "Yeah, well I don't see anyone." Out in the yards next door, "But they
can come out, any time." Or just look out their windows, shining blue from
the sky.

   "So?  It's just wrestling, fighting isn't gay, and you can even tell
your friends.  We're fighting, sparring, nothing gay about that."

   "I suppose you're right." I shake my head.

   "Then why're you still scared?"

   "I ain't scared."

   "Of course not," he laughed at me, "You don't hide it very well."

   "Well," I laughed back, "I just don't want to hurt you."

   "I can take it, if you can hit even hit me."

   "Yeah?"

   He stepped sideways, and hit my shoulder.  So, I stumbled, and fell on
the hill.

   "Yeah.  Prove it."

   "Faggot!" I got back up, but I'm a running back, not a tackle, and he
moved surprisingly fast for someone so out of shape.

   "Hahaha, you have to do better then that!"

   I'm glad he took the knife away.  "All right," I got up, dusted off my
hands.  "You're good.  Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

   "Practice." He started taking his shirt off, so I pulled mine.  But he
just left it on, his hands sticking out of his sleeves, and twisted it
around one.  "I can use the practice, though.  Don't really have a partner
that's bigger and stronger than me." He wrapped it around my arm, and swung
me around so I tripped over his leg, and rolled over.  "That's your
problem. You think your size is an an advantage.  Being strong wins the
fight, like having the bigger dick makes you the man." Now I get it.  He's
pushing my buttons, to piss me off.  "Unless I know how to use it against
you."

   "What?"

   "Momentum.  You're a charger, and most of your experience is on the
field.  So, I just have to watch football to see your style, and the
weaknesses in it."

   "I'm not weak!" There he goes, pushing my buttons again.  "WUGH!"

   "No, but that's your weakness.  I just told you, you think that means
you win.  Which is how I beat you." I gasped.  "Catch your breath."

   Just surprised me is all.  It was stupid, and he pushed my buttons, but
he didn't even break a sweat.  He was calm, so calm, the whole time.  It
was even a little scary.  "You need to learn, to control yourself, and
actually understand your opponent." He untwisted it, and put his hands up
to drop it back over his fat body.

   Which gave me an opening to tackle him.

   "Hahah!" Pin him, face down, and hold his legs in mine.  "Yeah, you
getting in the mood?" I let go.

   "Is that what this is?" Backed up.

   "Your homophobia," he nodded, "That's a weakness too." He went back in,
so I grabbed my shirt.

   Stopped in the door, behind the garage, and looked around the
cinder-block walls.  Noticed the tripod, in the other corner.  No camera on
it, or telescope I could see.  He's a nerd, but.  "You do porn?" I guessed.

   "Not really." TV, and VCR too.  "We record, our sexual activity, but
more for analysis.  We don't share it, or use it to arouse other people. 
That's porn, what it's for.  We use it to get better at what we do
together. Why, you interested?"

   "In porn?" Might get me in the mood.

   "Making it?"

   "Maybe," never really thought about it, "Yeah.  I suppose it might be
cool." To be a porn star.

   "Well, what do you like to watch?" He picked up a remote.

   "Well, you know."

   "It helps if you can say it," he nodded.

   "Interracial, black bottom." Mostly.

   "So you think you're a top."

   "No," he lay back, on the futon, I suppose.  "I AM a top." Not like a
couch, or a bed even.  Just the mattress, on the floor.  Just a tarp under
it.

   "In your dreams," he laughed, "Your fantasies, but you haven't tried
it?"

   "No?" I looked away.

   "Then you don't know.  That's part of the stereotype, which one is the
man?  You're a butch, to cover it, so you assume that means you're the
top."

   "What's that for?" He picked up the phone.

   "I need to call someone, to ask permission."

   "What for?"

   "To use our videos.  That's one of the differences between porn, and
instructional material.  It would be an exploitation, to use it without his
permission."

   "Who's?" He didn't answer.

   "Yeah." He talked to the phone.  "You know Darrin?" He nodded.  "Well,
we're thinking about watching some movies.  Some home.  Movies.  Yeah, all
right."

   He didn't have to.  I recognized him when he put it on.  "Cleon?" He
don't know me, but.  Yeah, I thought about it.

   "Yeah, he said it was all right." He patted the bed.  "If you want to
watch."

   "Yeah," we were in the same gym.  1 year, as sophomores.  Juniors, and
seniors don't have PE, just sports.  He was on the basketball team, I was
in Football, but he'd grown up, a lot.

   "The truth is, you don't have to be The top, The bottom.  We can take
turns.  Trying to be The man is, counterproductive.  You're gay, that means
man-to-man.  2 men."

   "Mhm?" But he can take it.  Bent over, taking it.  From behind, just a
dildo, not even a strap-on, but I always thought he was a bottom.  Or
wanted to, think about him, on the bottom.  Bent over likat, to take it.

   "And it turns out, the best way to learn is bottom up."

   "Hm?"

   "To avoid hurting me." He looked, serious.  Nodded.  "You can't really
know what you're doing, or learn it, until you know what it feels like."

   "You mean, you want to fuck me?"

   He shook his head.  "I have to.  To show you how.  Huh!  There really
isn't any other way."

   Timber!

   "Well, I don't think I can do that."

   "Haha, there's nothing to do." he pointed, at the TV.  "See?  He's not
doing it, he's just taking it, like a Man."

   "Uh, fuck.  YEH!" he loved it.

   "Yeah, but."

   "The other way is you can try it, yourself.  If you want, you can borrow
a toy, some lube." He got up.  "Huh!  It's been a long day, I need to go
take a shower anyway."

   He went out, and closed the door.  But he left the tape on, and the
footlocker.  Full of toys.

   All right, "Fuck it." I never, really even wondered.  What it's like,
for the bottom.

   "Nh!  Yeh, fuck it.  Fuck datass!  NUH!"

   But, he liked it.  "Huh!" And how do you, do it?  I mean, what's that,
feel like?

   "All up in that ass." That's what she said.

   So, I looked.  In the foot locker.

   "Fuck it," one way to find out.

   ;

   Top (M Mono NS)

   "Huh!" THUCK!  It stuck, the hatchet, and I just stood up to feel the
satisfaction of pulling it off.  I'm pretty good at sheaf-throwing, daggers
like an arrow.  Which is why I'm practicing this.  Don't really learn
anything, trying what you already know, but this is the hardest throw.  Not
just a flip throw, but the balance is all wrong.  And it doesn't advance
point first with the back-heavy balance of a pommel.  Right in front of the
hilt, like my throwing daggers.  So, it's more critical to get the rotation
right for the distance.  So, it makes an even number of revolutions, and
strikes with the edge.  Hard enough to bury it in the wood-pile, against
the side of the garage, and stick.

   CHUCK!  Instead of bounce off the handle, so I have to jump before it
hacks me off at the ankle.  Shrug, automatic return, so I turn around, and
bend to pick it up.  Flip it to catch it a few times, turning back to check
the distance, look down to check my stance against the line, and hold it
up. By the handle instead of the tip, since it's a hatchet, and doesn't
even have a tip.  Maybe I should get some plate steel, and cut out some
hurlbats, for practice.  That's like a hatchet, but cut from a blank, with
a sharpened point, back spike, and handle instead of a pommel.  So, it can
stick in any orientation, but that's like cheating.  Speaking of which, he
looks out the side door.

   WhWh!  THUCK!

   "Huh!" Actually threw off the release, so I got a lucky stick.  He
looked over, peeked out at the hatchet.  It even twisted in the air, to
stick up-side down, but that was luck.  Not like I intended it to do that,
but impressive enough.

   "Feel better?" He blushed!?

   "Yeah, uh." He looked back, "You want to cum in," then looked around. 
Still empty yards, this late in the year, and the evening, but some lights
were on in the windows.  My neighbors.  "And help me, with something?"

   "Sure," I dusted my palms.  Closed the side door.  "Top or bottom?"

   "Huh!" he nodded.  "I guess I want to try it.  On the bottom.  First."

   "Did you?" I noticed he figured out the suction cup.  How you can stick
it to the lid of the toolbox, right in front of the TV.  Still shiny, but
he didn't think to use a rubber, and I forgot to tell him.

   Turned off the TV, he just started pulling down his pants.

   "Yeah," kicked them off, half naked.  "Then, maybe I can try, to fuck
you?"

   "Sure," I patted his back, "If you like."

   INS if I can get it up for him, but if not.  I've got the tools for the
job.  "Relax." I didn't even have to tell him to bend over.  He did that,
all by himself, still a little shiny, and greased up inside.  So, I
unbuckled my belt.

   ;

   Bottom {MM...}

   "Comfortable?" On my hands, and knees?

   "Not really."

   "Well, find a comfortable position, and relax." He got a box of gloves
out of the footlocker, and wrapped a towel around the toy I borrowed. 
"Huh, it's important.  Not just just knowing how to give it, but also
receiving it.  You have to relax, so it doesn't hurt." He felt my buttock,
and I closed my eyes.  Imagined Cleon, not the man I, wanted most.  Just
the only one I knew, just seen, doing this.

   With a girl, but then.

   "How do you feel?"

   "Okay?" I suppose.  Just imagining her out of the picture.

   Especially when he came in behind her, to help her fuck him.  Fucked
her, into him, but just take that out, and I could imagine his fat ass,
fucking Cleon, when he touched me.

   "Relax," spread open my ass, with the greasy rubbery glove, "How was
that, toy you tried?"

   "I don't know," I took a breath, "Huhhh, I couldn't.  Get it in." But
just feeling his fingers, between my cheeks, and touching my asshole.

   "Too big?" I couldn't barely talk, so I shrugged.  "I'm not going to
tell you size doesn't matter, but sometimes bigger isn't better."

   "Oh."

   "How's that feel?"

   "M'hm?"

   "Especially to start, huh!  It helps to start small, like my pinky.  You
ready?"

   "I think so," I wanted it.

   "Relax."

   "Nh!"

   "Try not to clench.  Hows that feel?"

   "iNh," I tried to nod.  "Yeah?"

   He just wiggled it, but that made it go deeper, and I felt something,
roll in there?  No, out, around his finger.

   "Hh, fuck!"

   "You okay?"

   "God, it feels good!"

   "Good, now I'm going to go slow, to start.  This helps you relax, so you
can take more."

   "Yeah, morh.  NH!" God!

   "You want more?"

   I nodded.

   "Here."

   "UH!" He slipped out, "Noh, don't stop."

   "I'm not," he touched me, "Just gonna try another finger."

   "Oh," I squirmed a little, and got more comfortable.

   "Relax, try not to clench.  Try pushing it out, like shit."

   "Nhah!" It rolled out, again.  My asshole, he pushed it in, then it
stretched out, and rolled down his finger, and it was the most incredible
feeling I ever have.  "Ngh!" I kind of wiped, my mouth on the pillow. 
"More."

   "Would you like me to try another finger?"

   "Ngh!" He didn't pull it, all the way out, but I nodded.  "Neah."
Please. "Yes, please."

   "Okay," he wiggled it, I don't know which one.  I don't care.

   "NAUUUUGH!"

   "You okay?"

   "Nhih?" Kind of wish he'd stop asking.  'fh, huh!  Fuck, Me.  NOW!"

   "Okay," he started, slow, too slow, gently, when I just wanted more, and
harder, deeper.

   "Neah, yeah!  Fuck me.  More.  Nh!  Hh, hardern.  Nrh!"

   "Pillow biter." I bit the pillow.

   "MRH!" He pulled out.  "Uh, fuck!  Don't stop, you fucking TEASE!"

   "I have to," he unzipped his pants, "Put on a rubber."

   "Oh." I sat up, "Okay?" I nodded, "Yeah, that'd be great."

   All right, he was right.  I'm a bottom, I wanted to think I was a top,
because that's manly, or whatever, but then I saw Cleon take it, and how
much he loved it.  Then I wondered, if it maybe wasn't that bad.  Then I
felt it, well I tried, and that fucking thing was just too fucking big, but
he was hard, and he poured some more lube on the glove to get it slick, and
I never wanted anything more in my whole life then for him to fuck me.

   "Yeah," I lay back down, "Fuck me like a man."

   His fat ass, more cushion for the pushin, right?  His big fat cock, not
as big as Cleon, much less that toy, but it wasn't some toy.  It was a man,
a nice big fat fucking man cock, and I couldn't wait to get it inside me.

   "UH!" Finely!

   "You okay?"

   "Just, shut up an fuck me, god damn it?"

   "All right."

   I turned back to the pillow, and got a big fat bite of it, so I didn't
crack my teeth.  My mouth guard, next time I need to get my mouth guard. 
"NGH!" Some snot ran out, I was even crying, I didn't care.

   It felt too fucking good.

   ;

   "Faggot!" (M.S.I.  - Frankensine Girls...)

   I laugh, "Takes one to know one?"

   "I ain't a fag," he didn't, laugh that is, "Like that dirty spic."

   "Then how do you know?"

   "I heard," he got defensive, "Enough."

   "Yeah?" This was getting fun, "Who from?"

   "You know, everbody says."

   "Yeahah?" I heard to, "Your gay friends?"

   "I don't hang out with them!" Gays?  You don't have any gay friends,
right?

   "Of course not," Grinning.  "So, your Hispanic friends?"

   "I don't hang out with Mexicans, neither!"

   "Of course not.  So, how did you learn so much about them?  You take
Spanish?" Learn anything from History?  (~G.  Santayana.)

   "No?"

   "You're not 'Mexican,' so what do you know about Latino culture?" He
just tried to think about it.  "You gay?" And failed.

   "No, but you been talking to that freak, Georgie?"

   "Yeah, that's how I know."

   "I knew it!  I told you he was gay!"

   "No," I stood up, "He's not." Put my hands on my hips.  "I am."

   He pushed me, "What!?" Or tried to.

   I stepped back, grabbed his wrists, and held them.  "Stop." Just up, so
all he could do was try to struggle.  "Think about, what you're doing.  Who
you think you're pushing around, before you do something stupid." I looked
down, let go, and took a step forward.

   So, he ran.

   I laughed, loud.  That felt good.  Better, finally letting the cat out
of the bag.  "Fuck it," I shrugged, "TELL YOUR FRIENDS!"

   Not like they were ever really mine to begin with.  He's right, I felt
free.  Now, that I don't have to hide it any more.  I looked back, at
Carlos, looking at me.  "All right," I shrug.  He's not a black guy, kind
of small and scrawny too, but take your own advice?

   What do I really know?  About him, I heard.  About him, looking at the
other guys, in gym.  Sophomore, I think, but I don't really know, do I?

   "One way to find out..."

   ;

   Carlos (mM IR NS.)

   "Hey," he came over, "Sorry about that guy," stuck his thumb up, over
his shoulder.  "I apologize, for his insensitivity."

   "Well, I ain't a faggot."

   "Of course not," he shook his head, "He's not my friend, any more.  I
couldn't take it, the racism, sexism, homophobia.  Because, huh.  I'm gay."

   "Then why you, always so racist?"

   "Denial," he looked down, I looked away.  "You mind," he turned, "If I
sit down?"

   "Free country." I suppose.

   "Well then, if you don't mind me asking, are you Mexican or is your
family from somewhere else?"

   "No," I was about to get mad, "I'm from Juarez.  Mexico." I nodded.

   "That's fine, I just like to ask, before I get caught in an assumption,
and offend you again."

   "Well," okay, "Thanks." It's just weird, he's a bully.  A notorious
bully, like the king of bullies.

   "But your English is perfect, unaccented, so you must have come here
when you're young?" I just nodded, relaxing a little.  Not just a dumb jock
after all?

   "So, that's why you hated gays so much," Pretty much grew up here.  My
English is better than my Espangles, according to my teachers.

   "Yeah, I didn't want, anyone to know.  So, I started parroting their
insensitivity to cover it."

   "And racist?" he called me, those things before too.

   "I truly am, deeply sorry for everything I said, and did, when I was in
denial like that.  I wish I could appologise for my ex-friends too, but I
just decided, I don't want to live like that any more.  Huh!" He took
another breath, "You know Zula, and Asmara?"

   "I know who they are," they lived nearby, my neighborhood.

   "Well, they're immigrants, too.  And friends, my real friends now, but I
realized I don't really know anything about you, nor your culture." He just
kept talking, "It's so stupid, really.  We all live, around eachother, and
yet we never get to know eachother, because of all this stupid ignorant
hate.  So, I'm starting to think about, what I can do to make up for all I
done, when I was young and stupid like that.  I'm sorry."

   "It's all right," I nodded, "I get it, I forgive you, but is that what
this is all about?" White man's guilt?

   "No, not really.  I mean yeah, I saw, and heard, something I don't want
to just sit back and let happen any longer, but at the same time.  I guess
I need new friends, more diverse friends if I'm going to learn anything
outside of my privileged upbringing."

   "So, your checking your privilege."

   "No, I did that.  Now, I'm looking for people to do good with it, as a
group."

   "Like Dani."

   "Danny Norman?"

   "No, sorry.  Danica, Basques?" How she says it, even though it's spelled
with a V.

   "Oh, right." he shrugged, "I guess," thought, "What about her?"

   "Well, she's teaching, all the girls with her father."

   "Oh, yeah.  You mean the knife girls." #LookAtMyKnifeNotMyTits.  "What?"

   I looked away, "Nothing."

   "Huh, I don't mean to pry, but that wasn't nothing.  Looked like fear,
are you, afraid of her?  Or knives." He looked down, again.  Away from me,
at the knife on his hip, turned away when he sat down.

   "SMH, I'm sorry.  I had no idea.  Here, would you be more comfortable if
I took it off?" He got up, and walked back to his truck.  Unbuckling his
belt to pull out the end, the sheath off, then tuck it back in the loop,
and buckle it.

   Walking back to his truck, he reached through the window, and I suppose
lock it in the glove box.  I didn't see, but that's about where he pulled
something out, dropped it in, and closed it back.  He walked back, "There,
that better?"

   Well, he's still big, strong, and threatened me when we're younger, but
I nodded.

   "Yeah, I talked to Dani', not a lot, but she used to be afraid of them
to.  Indirectly, she's kinda like the girlfriend of my girlfriend sista."
He shook his head, "But we don't really hang out much."

   "Why not?"

   "I don't know, conflicting issues?"

   "Because you're gay, and she's a lesbian." Not really much of a secret.
Any more, I don't really socialize either, but even I noticed.  That
lately, the talk around school started changing.  In retrospect, it
coincided with other things, like the knife-girls.

   "Yeah, maybe.  We just don't have much in common."

   "So, you have a girlfriend," I shake my head, "Because?"

   "Huh!  That's complicated, and a whole set of closets, which is why I
can't really go into a lot of details."

   "Why not?"

   "Not my closets, but I can talk about mine.  I like to, actually." he
sat down, "It helps me, think past a lot of the fucked up shit I grew up
with.  Explaining it to someone else, it helps me get it straight in my
head, I suppose."

   So, he told me about it.  It was, interesting?  I guess, but he really
had it pretty hard.  For a white man, pretty rich, popular, lots of
friends, girlfriends.

   "Yeah, on the surface.  That just made it easy to cover up my inner
conflict, but if I hadn't been saved, I hate to think about.  Huh!  I have
to think about, what I might have become.  Probably would have, because
denial doesn't help.  It helps you maintain the same mindset, until it
motivates you to become violent."

   "So, like a serial killer?"

   "Probably not," he shook his head, "I don't want to scare you, but if
not for the grace of Godless freaks, I almost certainly would have started
raping black men.  Oh, fuck.  I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry."

   But I couldn't stop.  Crying, so he hugged me, until I could.

   "You want to talk about it?"

   "No."

   "But, you probably should."

   "Yeah."

   "When you're ready.  Take your time..."

   ;

   Daring Do (Mm Ther...)

   "Not that I'm one of them pony-boys, but I know some online.  " Probably
best to back away from the trauma.  I supposed, not really good at this,
never really tried it before.  As, the, well therapist.  I'm not a
therapist, but I have patience.  The best thing for the job, just never had
patients before.  All my experience prior to that was as the patient. 
"Outside of MLP, it originally ment feats of bravery.  Ha, so I guess it's
like.  Self parody: The sincerest form of humor." ~G.  E.  Dancey.

   He laughed too, a little.  I drove him out, where he could cry openly.
Not to hide, being with him.  Not that, I'm expecting that kind of
relationship, and I don't care who sees me with him.  Not any more, that
was part of my problem, one of many, I just have to get used to not caring
about until it's no longer an issue.  Once I learned Patience.

   "So like, playing football, and bullying people."

   "Right, that was a front to cover my fear.  My closet, terrified anyone
would see.  So, I symbolically locked it up, with the light off, and piled
a bunch of football equipment in front of it.  I guess you could say my
closet was a locker."

   "Haha.  So." he nodded, "Talking about it, helps."

   "It helped me.  And everyone I talked to, but no guarantees.  It hurts,
I know, but.  Do you have something to talk about?" Not enough to say, as a
rank amateur, but I can try.  Narrow it down, to something involving a
knife.

   "Huh!" He didn't start crying, again.  But looked ready to, and
nervously at the dashboard.  "You're right.  I, came here, when I was
young. So young, I don't remember, real good."

   "Mexico?"

   "I don't remember that, at all.  Coming here, from Mejico.  All I
remember is, the Coyotes."

   "Like, the dogs?" I don't know, or I didn't about that term.

   "No, the men, helped us come here." He shook his head, "Or to America,
Texas, then New Mejico."

   "Oh, those are called Coyotes."

   "Yes, they smuggle people, and drugs, for money.  They help us, me an my
mother, but.  Huh, she no have, enough money, they say."

   "So," I guessed, "They offered, another way for them to pay her."

   "Jes, like Mrs.  Falconi." Our girlfriend's mother.  It's a long story,
"She married, an American man to get citizenship."

   "One of the Coyotes?"

   "No, another man, they know.  But, before that.  Nh!" He started crying,
so I didn't ask.  Filled in the blanks, with assumptions, but not
completely wrong.  Rape, prostitution, and gang-rape.  Not at knife point.
Not for her.  I didn't think, right away, but eventually he told me.

   It wasn't just her.  Yes, the Coyote ring they worked with, did
prostitution in addition to drugs, but at least one of them was also a
pedorast, or at least depraved enough to take advantage of the young child
of one of the border whores.  He fought back, and was raped, at knife
point. Didn't cut him, didn't have to, he complied, but it still left
scars. Sexual scars, but at least now that I knew, I could avoid them, and
with help start helping him start to heal them.

   It just took a long time, and a lot of patience, after that first ride.

   I gave him the knife, "Here," Cheap ass PoS Bowie anyway.  "Take it."
Symbolically, "It's yours now, so you don't have to fear it.  Being used
against you, because it's in your hands now.  It has no power over you,
because you have power over it.  In your hand, feel the grip?  Yeah, take
it back.  It's not a symbol of your fear, any more.  Make it a symbol of
your Power." Or, something like that, but it seemed to work.  he thanked
me, and even hugged me, so i drove him back, and dropped him off when he
showed me where he lived.

   ;

   Carlos (Mm-b Regression/Flashback.)

   I guess it was just stupid luck, that you had the same one.  Cheap
Pakistan bowie, with the brass hilt, and pommel on your belt.  So, it was
not just a knife, I know knives, it's part of my culture.  But that knife,
looked just like the one he had.  God, there must be millions of them, but
it even said Colt on one side, and Pakistan on the other, just like this
one.  But your right.  I can feel it, in my hand, instead of my face. 
Instead of threatening me, thank you for showing me how to take that power
away from it.

   No, he was not a Coyote.  He was another man, the Coyotes know pimps
here, for my mother to work off her debt.  Not here, we move after she did,
to get away from that life, and start over.  She know, but she could not
stop them.  They took me, so she could work, and then they put me to work,
too.  One man, just one, but he said call him Padre.

   He make me, and threaten me with his knife.  Once, he said he likes
boys, but he can make me a girl, if he has to.  So, I no fight, so he no
hurt me.  And the next time, he no need the knife.  He hurt me, inside.  He
make me lie, and tell him I liked it.  That I love him, but I did not.  He
say he make me his son, if I was good.  Or, if I fight, he make me a girl,
and a whore.  Like my Jorra mother, and get another boy.  I wish, he did
get another boy, but I did not want him to, cut it off, and make me a
whore.

   My mother is not a whore.  She did that to come here, but she quit, when
the debt was over.  She run away, with me and my new father, but not like a
kidnapping.  She took me back, from the man who wanted to make me his son.
His little whore, or a girl to turn out to the pimps in Cruces.  Las
Cruces, like the Crosses.  Or the Angels, Los Angeles.  They name places
like that, then they change.  Keep the names, but become twisted, bad
places.

   That is Las Cruces to me.  Hell.  The worst place there could be, or I
have ever been.  Worse than Juarez, it was a bad place for my mother, but
she no talk about it.  I ask her, why, what was so wrong there for her to
go through all that, and put me through that hell, but she just says "La
Pasado." Like El Paso, only not the Pass.

   The past.  That is all she tells me about what we run from, the past. 
It's over, look to the future, but it is not over.  Not yet.  Like you
said, there are scars, memories.  That is my oldest, the earliest thing I
remember.  Las Cruces, and the men.  That man, I only knew as Padre', and
the men who give me to him, so Mother could work off her debt.

   ;

   Darrin (MMs.  Plural, NS.  Violence.)

   "Hey faggot."

   Ah, fuck.  "Cowards." The whole team.

   "Where's your boyfriend?"

   I backed sideways, but they cut me off.

   "I see you brought all yours', this going to be a gangbang?"

   "We ain't the faggots."

   "You sure?  None of you're gay.  Haha, right.  Just like none of you're
gay before, when I was on your team." Still no exit.  Great.  "So brave, it
takes all of you to confront one faggot?"

   "Shut up, faggot."

   Knives.  Not sure if they all have them, but try to stay calm.  Think
your way out of this, Daring won't Do.  If I escalate to my knife, then
this turns into a murder.  Don't give them ideas, just keep talking, so
they don't think of it.

   Not just Carlos' culture.  Pretty good sized town, county seat, so
suburban country.  "Country" music, Shanaya singing about her commute.

   But still, some farmer/rancher culture, which means knives, if I
escalate.

   "Well?" Shrug, "Snh, huh!" Good heart full of breath, "Who's brave
enough to go first?" Still looking at eachother, egging eachother on, tune
out what they're saying, keep talking, "Who wants to touch me first? 
Because you know, I'm going to get my licks in, before you get your dicks
in."

   Fuck.  Bradley, `the Tank' Lewis.

   "Huh!" Interracial, football team, which means blacks, mostly blacks. 
The best way to unite racists is against a common enemy.  School pride,
take it out on the other team, try not to look at the center's ass before
the snap.  But I'm a running back, and he's a Linebacker.

   "You have to Catch me!"

   Juking, that's my job.  Or it was, my position to break free, to catch
the pass, and run it in.  Or a hand-off for a running play from the QB.  I
even got used to running alone, from the shotgun, spreading out to improve
the chances of an open receiver.  Just have to adapt it, a whole lot,
taking on the rest of the team.  My own team, both lines, offensive, and
defensive, but I know them.  All of them, their moves, and the only
advantage is they don't want to touch me.  Just surround me, cut off my
escape, smear the queer, but I got cooties.  AIDS, I suppose.  They
hesitate, which gave me a temporary advantage.

   I'm not untouchable, though.  Just when you start thinking something
like that, one of them gets brave, and lucky.  Didn't even see who through
the stars exploding in my head, blinding me.

   Then, I'm down.  Getting kicked, trying to take most of it in my arms,
and legs.  Fists landing all over my back, and shins bruising my ribs, but
I have to keep my hands up to cover my head.  They're yelling, mostly
Faggot, and variations.  Shit packer, queer, ass queen, just toon it out,
and concentrate on surviving

   Train all you want, there's no training for 1 on tens.  Didn't count,
wasn't the time, but long before I started practice fighting, sparring
admittedly with mostly girls, I trained for something else.

   Down.

   Risk putting a hand down.

   Set,

   Push my knees up to get my feet under me.

   "HUGH!"

   Drive my shoulder into the first waist I could see, my arm over my head,
then across, while I hook my other one.  To grab a leg, get it off the
ground, and drive him over the back one.  Over, back, down, "WUGH!" and
roll off quick before they recover.

   Sideways, out of their way, the pileup, like a fumble, but don't get
trapped again.  Surrounded, just get my hand down again, block another kick
into my head, but jump back, and out of the way, twisting out of a grab,
elbow off a head, and bounce back the other way.  Juke, duck, and come
around with my knife.  They didn't tackle me.  They didn't even try, most
of the offensive and defensive lines, including the bench, but they didn't
want to tackle me, or they could have.

   SKRCH!  Felt it through the handle, before I even realized I went for
it.

   "Ah, fuck!" he fell back, bleeding, but then some bright flashes came
out too.

   "Fuck." It just escalated, but I'm not surrounded.  Where's my exit? 
Sidestep...  "So, who wants to get cut next?"

   "You?"

   Another one laughs, "Yeah, I'm gonna kill you now, faggot."

   "Yeah?" I laugh back, "Who wants AIDS?" Fear, the only weapon I have
left.  "You going to cut me, without getting cut?  You know it's in the
blood, right?  You don't have to fuck me to get it.  So, who wants some gay
blood?  You!?" He jumps back.  "How about you?  Come on, who wants to get
bloody with me?"

   That was enough, to get out.

   "Yeah!  Run FAGGOT!"

   So now the rumor is I have AIDs.  Fuck it, whatever.  I don't, but that
wasn't the point.  I survived, now I have to get out of town.

   Next time they'll bring guns.

   ;

   "Rick" (Alias)

   She answered the door.  "A la verga!" So, I went to see.

   "Oh shit," he tried to laugh, painfully.  "What happened to you?"

   He coughed, "Got in a fight." Grunted, but I didn't see any blood.  Red
though, starting to turn black, and blue.

   "With who?"

   "The football team." He slumped on the couch, "You got a place, to hide
my truck?"

   I closed the door, then opened it, looked out at the street.

   "Yeah," he threw his keys.  Missed, so I picked them up, and went out to
open up the fence.  Unlock the shed, nothing of value, but looked clear
enough to pull it in, if I can get it up the step.  It's not a garage, but
compact pickup.  Single cab, short bed, Rear Wheel only, but I managed to
back it in.  Practically a large car with the bed, I hoped it wasn't too
long to get the doors closed.  It was, but I had a chain to hold them
together, with the padlock, and went back in the side door.

   "You want to report it?"

   "You a cop?"

   "No."

   "Retired, then.  Border Patrol, DEA, Customs, Immigration?"

   I shook my head.

   "So, retired.  DEA?" Good guess, especially beaten half to death.

   "Huh!  Narcotics." He's good, "Who the fuck are you?" They even taught
me, one way to question a resistant witness is if he doesn't suspect that
he's being questioned.

   "I understand," he nodded, "I'm a friend of her son." My wife, came back
with a bowl, and a cloth.  Tended to him in Spanish.

   "What did he tell you?" He shouldn't have.

   "Don't worry, I'm not going to snitch.  Even if I wanted to, I just lost
all my friends on the Football team, so."

   "Derrick?"

   He shook his head, winced.  "Darrin."

   "Sorry, Darren."

   "He talk about me?"

   "No," he doesn't really talk to me much.  "Sorry, but I heard.  Running
back, right?  Don't worry, where." I have to protect my sources.

   "He had to.  Tell me just enough, about his trauma so I could help him
deal with it." And i could bet he could be persuasive with his questioning,
I didn't coach him, I'm not an Interrogator.  Never was.

   "I'm sorry, but I really can't talk about any of that." Legally.

   "Of course not, huh!  I'm just assuming something to do with Witness
protection," he looked at her.

   "Again, I can't say, but I really have to know what he has told you, for
our security."

   "A cartel.  I know that, but he didn't say which."

   "Good," I got my flashlight, "Now, open your eyes, and try to follow
this." Back, and forth, "Have you been drinking?"

   "Nh," he shook his head, winced.  "Don't drink."

   "Good, now I'm going to flash this in your eyes." Pupillary response:
Not good.

   "You have medical training?"

   "A little first aid, but you might have a concussion."

   "Yeah," he closed his eyes, "Probably."

   "Let me make some calls, but you really should see someone, with better
training.  I can make sure nobody hears about it."

   Then I gave him a ride in my car.  Alone, my wife stayed behind.

   "He told me, how they got here."

   "Teller?"

   "America, not Kansas, but Las Cruces, El Paso, Juarez, he doesn't
remember before that." Might need to call the Marshals at some point now.
"Nobody else.  I haven't discussed it with anyone else, but I know about
the prostitution, and rape."

   "Huh!" I nodded.  Yeah, probably going to have to move, again.

   "I won't.  I just came out as a homosexual, so this was retaliation for
that.  They don't know anything about him, or his family."

   "Good," I almost patted his shoulder, "Now, try to relax, we're almost
there, but try not to pass out."

   "Huh uh uh!" He laughed, then coughed.  "Not likely, too much pain."

   "Well, I know a good doctor, and she's discrete.  So, you don't have to
worry about her outing you."

   "I need to get out of town," he nodded, "I really could use some help
with that."

   "Well," maybe with a few more calls, "I'll see what I can do about that,
too."
   ;