HARLEY & MUTT
By Waddie Greywolf

CHAPTER 1


By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth : I sought him, but I found him not.  I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth : I sought him, but I found him not.  The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth ?  It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth : I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my father's house, and into the chamber of him who created me. ~ Song Of Salomon

* * * * * * *

“What da’ ya’ mean, you wanna’ be my slave, you ugly piece of shit,” Spider spat out his venom at the ugly young man kneeling at his boots, “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.  A big, good looking man like me with a big fine dick.  Why, I’ve got the sweetest tasting cock any man or woman could put in their mouth.  You think I’m gonna’ waste it feed’n it to Jo-Jo the dog face boy?  You think, for one minute, I’d be seen with an ugly piece of shit like you riding by my side calling me Master?  Huh?  Well, Dumbo, you better think again.  Why, yore’ fuck’n ears is so big they’d rip you off a bike in a good, stiff wind.  If Spider has a slave to pleasure his cock he’s gonna’ stick it into something what’s a damn sight prettier’n you, bow-wow breath.  The very idea asking a man like me to be your master.  For an ugly mother fucker you sure got guts, kid.  Go on, I’ll give you a treat.  You clean my boots real good with that doggie tongue of yours— get ‘em real clean— and generous ole Spider’ll give you a full bottle of his piss to drink.  Be good for ya’— put hair on yore’ chest— make a man out a’ ya.’  Would ju’ like that, boy?”  

“Yes, sir, Mr. Spider,” the disfigured young man replied.

“Yeah, you bet chu’ would, you piece of trash.  You better clean ‘um good, dog face, or you won’t get nothing!” Spider growled.

The young man was eager to prove his worth to the big, loud mouthed man standing in front of him.  He started to lick clean every inch of Spider’s oily, dusty, dirty boots.  He didn’t stop even when he knew his mouth wouldn’t produce more saliva to do a good job.  He was hoping he’d already done well enough to please the big man, and he would get his prize; a full beer bottle of Spider’s hot, man piss.

Spider kicked him away with one of his boots.  “You call that cleaning a man’s boots?  Good thing you ain’t my slave, dog face.  If you were my slave and showed me such disrespect, why, I’d beat you within an inch of your life.  You hear me, boy?” Spider shouted at the young kid kneeling in the dust.

“Yes, sir!  I’m sorry, Master Spider, I’ll try to do better next time,” the young man replied.

“Won’t be no next time for you, slave, and you don’t get none of my piss, neither.  A slave has to earn something as fine as my piss.”

Spider swung back with his heavy, steel-toed, motorcycle boot and kicked the young man in the shoulder as hard as he could sending him rolling over backward.  Spider kicked him so hard the kid let out a small cry of pain.  He lay there looking down at the dirt.  He didn’t whimper or let out another sound, but a couple of his tears fell to the dirt--- not from the pain in his shoulder, but from the hurt in his heart.  He wondered to himself why some folks had to be so cruel.

Spider continued to rant,  “The very idea asking a fine looking man like me to be your master.  Shit, boy, you can’t even do a decent job a’ cleaning a man’s boots, and I like my slave to keep my boots clean.  It’s down right disrespectful of a slave to allow his master to walk around in a dirty, unkept pair of boots.  You deserve exactly what you get— nothing!  Now, go your way.  Don’t bother me no more.  The King said it best, honcho, you ain’t never caught a rabbit, and you ain’t no friend of mine.  You ain’t nothin’ but an old hound dog, boy.  Why, you ain’t even a hound dog.  You’re a fucking mutt.  An ugly looking mutt nobody wants.  Your daddy and momma must’ve been some kinda powerful ugly to give birth to some’um’ s ugly as you.  Why, I’ve shit turds better look’n than you, fuck face.  I seen you try’n to beg them other men in the group for some cock and none of ‘um wanna’ stick their pricks in ya.’  Ya’ know why, mutt?  Huh?  You know why, mutt-dog?  S‘cause you's too damn ugly!  ‘At’s why!  You’re a mutt!  That’s all you are, and that’s all you ever will be is a lousy fuck’n mutt!” Spider growled.  He turned and walked away, laughing and talking to his cronies about what a stupid fool the ugly kid was.  The very idea him asking Spider to be his master.  

“The kid’s got one brick less than a load, Spider,” one of Spider’s gang said in support of their leader.  

Spider and his men left the kid lying in the dirt whimpering as they went about their business.  A good looking biker, new to the Hot Dawgs, Harlen Boone, watched the whole thing from his and his girlfriend’s tent.  He slowly strolled over and offered the boy his hand.  The young man looked up into the most handsome face he’d ever seen on a man.  He wasn’t only perfect in face and body, he  had about a three days growth of beard and a ‘stache that made him look like he could be one of the meanest bikers on the road.  The young man took his hand and Harley pulled him up.  The kid stumbled, and the big, good looking biker threw his arms around him to catch him.

The boy pulled away immediately.  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to... please, forgive me, sir,” Mutt pleaded.

“It’s all right, Mutt.  Com’mer, Son,”  the handsome biker gently ordered and took the disfigured young man in his arms again, pulled his bandanna from his back pocket, and began to wipe the dirt and tears away from Mutt’s face.”

‘He called me Mutt,’  the boy thought to himself, ‘Don’t sound so bad coming from him.  This man could call me anything he wanted, and I’d worship at his feet.  Spider’s right, I am a fucking, ugly mutt.  I guess I deserve the name.’

“Mutt ain’t chore’ real name I know,” Boone said,  “Don’t matter none.  Most us bikers got nicknames.  He just give you that name or is that what most folks call you?"  Harley asked.

“Naw, sir, they mostly call me, ‘Hey, boy!’, ‘Hey, ugly!’ or ‘shithead.’  None of ‘em ever cared enough to ask my real name; but,  to hear you call me Mutt...  well, it sounds better to me than the way Mr. Spider said it.  Since you called me that, I think I’ll stick with it, sir," Mutt replied.

“‘Atta’ boy!  Wear it with pride, Son.  Don’t let that arrogant, self-important, piece of shit get the better of you.  Next time he calls to you, tell ‘em since he named you Mutt that’s all, the hell, you’ll answer to.  Fuck him and the ass he rode in on!  Well, Mutt,"  Harley said, sticking out his big hand, "I’m Harlen E. Boone,”  Mutt took his hand and shook hands with him.  “Most folks call me Harley for obvious reasons.  C’moan over to the old lady's and my tent and we’ll get chu’ cleaned up.”

“What’s the ‘E’ stand for, Mr. Boone?” Mutt asked trying to think of something to say.

Harley chuckled.  “Call me Harley, Son.  If’n I’s to tell ya’ what the ‘E’ stands for I’d have ta’ kill ya.’” Harley threw back his handsome head and laughed.  So did Mutt.  This man made him feel a lot better.  Harley and his ‘old lady’ Janice we’re nice and kind to Mutt.  They invited him to stay and have dinner with them.  They were having hot dogs, potato chips, and anything he wanted to drink.  Mutt relaxed, enjoyed dinner with them, made excuses to politely leave them to themselves, and went away; however, not before he thanked Harley and Janice several times for their hospitality.  He told them he would never forget their kindness.

After that, Mutt could tell Harley kept an eye out for him.  Harley was neither overt nor hovered over Mutt.  Harley would smile, nod to Mutt to acknowledge him, and somehow, Mutt could feel an unspoken goodness pass between them.  Mutt would always tip his baseball cap to Mr. Harley and Ms. Janice if she was around.  Mutt could be on the other side of the camp or way in back of the family on the road, but he could always feel Harley’s gaze watching over him.  Mutt never pushed it, but once in a while Janice or Harley would invite him to have a meal with them.  Even though Mutt knew and accepted Harley was a straight man there was something about him, besides his drop dead, good looks, which made Mutt feel relaxed and appreciated.
 
After the bad incident with the young disfigured biker, Spider and his buddies suddenly decided to leave the Hot Dawgs and ride South to join up with another family.  Mutt continued on with the Hot Dawgs always bring up the rear so as not to intrude on any other biker's space.  Several days later the Hot Dawgs were riding on their way from Vegas to Reno.  In the late afternoon ominous storm clouds began to gather and the two road captains decided to pick up speed.  They wanted to make it to the next larger town so folks could get motel rooms to get out of the weather.  It was no fun camping out in the pouring rain and most would rather have a dry room to bunk in for the night.  Suddenly, Harley’s rear tire went flat on his bike, but he managed to pull over to the shoulder and stop.  The family was going by pretty fast, but no one bothered to stop for them.  Harley and Janice were GDI’s (Goddamn independent riders - no club affiliation) and hadn’t been riding with the Hot Dawgs long enough to form solid friendships except with Mutt.  Mutt usually brought up the rear as he wasn’t a family member either and rode as a GDI.

Sure enough, here comes Mutt, riding at the rear.  He didn’t hesitate to stop for Harley and Janice to see if he could be of help.  The rest of the family simply waved and rode on past.  If you ain’t family,  that’s the way it can be on the road.  Harley walked over, shook Mutt’s hand and thanked him for stopping.  Mutt got his tools out and went to work with speed and efficiency.  He wasted no time and had Harley’s back wheel off his bike in minutes.  Harley was amazed at the young man’s mechanical knowledge and skill.  They knew the next good sized town was about twenty-five miles.  Mutt was going to take his tire, get it fixed and bring it back to Harley.  Harley liked the idea, but asked Mutt if he would let Janice hold the wheel, and take her into town before the bottom dropped out of the sky.  It looked like there was going be one hell of a rainstorm.  Harley gave Janice some money for the flat and for a motel room.  Mutt and Janice no sooner took off than the bottom dropped out where Harley remained with his bike.

He draped his tent over his bike and huddled underneath to keep warm and as dry as possible.  Still, he was sitting in a river of water running off the black top, onto the shoulder, and along the ditches.  He got some dirty clothes out of his saddle bag, folded them and put them in a plastic bag he found.  He set on it and it helped raise him higher than the flow of rainwater.  Harley waited and waited almost two hours but no Mutt.  He knew Mutt wouldn’t let him down, but he was concerned for Mutt riding in such a downpour.  About two hours later Harley looked out from beneath his make-shift shelter and saw one headlight in the distance coming toward him through the pouring rain.  He knew in his heart it was Mutt.  He smiled to himself.  He knew he had a friend, and by God, he didn’t care if the kid was a slave, a cocksucker, a male whore or the elephant man’s aborted brother, he was going to make a friend and buddy out of the man.  Any man who would do what Mutt was doing to help him deserved his respect and friendship.

Mutt pulled up soaked to the bone and so chilled he was shivering.  He pulled his bike along side Harley’s and they managed to drape the tent over both bikes.  They got Mutt’s tent laid out as a floor for them so they wouldn’t have to sit in the water.  As chilled as he was Mutt got busy and put Harley’s tire back on his bike.  By that time, more than the bottom dropped out.  There was one hellacious thunder and lightening storm that would’ve frightened the Almighty himself.  The rain was coming down three times as much and harder than before.  It was a cloud burst; a torrent of water falling from the sky.  Harley didn’t say anything to Mutt, but he began to worry.  He saw the drainage ditch which ran below the road was beginning to reach the gravel of the shoulder.  

In the desert there can be a huge storm and folks may be driving along not knowing a wall of water six feet high, a mini-tsunami is coming at them and slam into their vehicle, washing them off the pavement, and carry them along in its path for miles.  Many have lost their lives that way.  Harley decided to place his faith in the Lord, pull the flaps down on their small bike-condo and weather the storm.  Harley’s tire was fixed and on his bike.  They were ready to go, but there was no riding in this weather.  Only a fool would get on his bike and try to ride out the storm.  The chances of a moving object getting hit by a blast of high energy plasma from a lightening bolt was twenty to thirty times more likely than if they remained where they were and sit it out.

Harley shined his flashlight in Mutt’s face.  He took a good look at Mutt.  His face and skin were beginning to turn a pale white to a light blueish color.  Mutt was so cold and wet he was shivering uncontrollably. Harley was damp, but he wasn’t as cold and wet as poor Mutt.  ‘Fuck!  The poor kid’s one step away from hypothermia,’ Harley thought to himself.   “Mutt, chu’ got any dry clothes in your saddle bags?” Harley barked at Mutt above the thunder.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harley, but they’s dirty.  I done already wore 'em a couple a' days,” Mutt replied loudly.

“Don’t give a fuck!  We  gotta’ get you out of them wet clothes into some dry ones and warm you up, Son.  If not, you could go into shock and die from hypothermia.  Gimme’ yore’ keys to your saddle bags, and I’ll get ‘em for you,” Harley demanded.

Mutt handed the key to Harley, and he opened Mutt’s saddle bags.  Harely found some dry socks, levis, and a nice heavy flannel shirt.  Harley thought the clothes weren’t so dirty.  He laughed to himself when he considered he’d worn much dirtier clothes that these.  “C’moan, Son! Get them clothes off, and put these dry ones on,” Harley ordered.

Mutt hesitated and shook his head no.  “I’ll be okay, Mr. Harley, honest.  I’ll be all right.  Soon’s I warm up a bit,” Mutt said still shivering.

“Mutt!  Get chore’ Goddamn clothes off this minute!  You hear me?  You’n me, we’s buddies, ain’t we?  Any man what ’ud do what you done for me, I’m sure as hell gonna’ make him my buddy.  I don’t care if you’re a slave, a gay man, or a fuck’n hoochie-coochie dancer, you’s my Goddamn buddy!  You got that, boy?  A buddy takes care of his buddy.  I learned that in Nam.  Now get those fucking wet clothes off before I take my damn belt to you.”  Harley was trying to sound as much like a  stern, ornery, bad ass biker as he could, but his heart just wasn’t in it.

Mutt picked up on it and smiled wickedly.  “If’n I do, you promise to use your belt on me anyway?” Mutt replied.

Harley damn near fell out of the tent laughing.  Mutt laughed, too, and it was good for them to break the tension of the moment.  “You asshole!” Harley said still laughing and whopped him on the back good naturedly, “Get them damn clothes off, Son, and be quick about it!  That’s an order, slave!” Harley tried a different approach.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harley!” Mutt replied crisply.  Mutt started taking his clothes off in the cramped space.  Harley helped him pull his boots off.

Mutt was down to his levis but hesitated.  “C’moan, Son!  Y’ain’t got nothin’ I ain’t never seen before.  Undo ‘em, pull ‘em down, and I’ll help ya’ pull ‘em off,” Boone demanded.  Mutt did as he was told, and Harley got his first look at Mutt in the buff.  He turned his head away for a second and almost got whip lash doing a double take to get a better look at Mutt’s tackle.  “Holy Mary, mother of God!" Harley exclaimed,  "You got one of the biggest damn cocks I ever did see on a man, Son!  What the hell you shy about?” Harley roared with laughter at Mutt.

“Aaww, Mr. Harley, please, don’t go embarrassin’ me none,”  Mutt replied shyly.

Harley was still laughing but patted Mutt on his shoulder.  “Here!  Get these dry clothes on, Son," Harley said, "You need any help?”

“Naw, sir, I think I can manage," Mutt replied, "but, thank you, Mr. Harley,” he added quietly like an amen to a prayer.

“For what?” Boone asked.

“For looking out after me and wanting to make me yore’ buddy.  You don’t have ta’ do that, but I’d be downright proud and honored to be your buddy, sir.  Ain’t never had me no buddy before ‘cep’n in Nam.  Since I been back, ain’t never had me nobody I could think on as a buddy;  no one I could do nothing for,  'cause I’s so ugly to look upon.  Folks think I wanna' do things for ‘em for the wrong reasons.  I don’t.  I never did.  I only want people to like me, Mr. Harley.  Maybe to be my friend if'n they gimme' a chance and find me worthy.  I ain’t never ask for more from anyone except Spider,"  Mutt said with some remorse.

“Mutt, once a man makes another man his buddy or his friend, looks don’t matter none.  Hell, you ain’t ugly to me. You look like a man; like my buddy’s suppose to look.  Now get them dry socks on and pull your boots back on.  I know they’re wet, but they’s better’n nothing to keep your feet warm, and I 'spect it's gonna' get a lot colder toward morning," Harley forecasted.

Mutt did as Harley ordered.  Hell, he would’ve marched off a cliff if Harley told him to.  He wouldn’t hesitate, he wouldn't think twice, because deep in his gut he knew there was something about Harley he knew he could trust.  He knew Harley Boone would never ask anything of him that would place him in harm's way.  ‘Oh, no, Mutt!’ he thought to himself, ‘Please, don’t fall in love with a straight man,' he chastised himself.  Then he had a second thought, 'But I hear straight men tell their buddies they love ‘em all the time.  Why can’t I love Mr. Harley?  I ain't gotta' love him as no sex object.  He won’t know how much or how I love him.  We’ll just be buddies.  Hell, ain’t no man ever called me ‘buddy’ cep’n when I’s in Nam.  I'm gonna,' damn well, take what I can get.'

Mutt pulled his boots on and he was dressed.  He started to put his wet jacket back on, but Harley told him not to.  Harley unrolled a heavy blanket of his and found one in Mutt’s saddle bag.  He pulled them both over him and lay down.  He held up the other side for Mutt to get under.  Mutt was shivering again, but he hesitated.  “Get under this blanket with me now, Mutt!  Don’t make me tell you again, boy.  I’m too damn cold and tired.  Do what I tell ya.’  It’ll be all right, Son.  Trust me,”  Boone ordered again.  Mutt stretched out and lay down next to Harley, but made sure he didn’t touch him.  “Now, roll over here, and lemme’ hold you, boy, so’s I can warm you up, get chore’ body temperature back up to normal,” Harley said gently.

Mutt wouldn’t move.  ‘Did he hear Mr. Harley right?  Oh, he wants to share body warmth.  I don’t know if I can do that.  I ain’t been that close to nobody in a long time.’  Harley didn’t scold the young man he simply pulled him into his arms and held him tightly.  He spoke softly to Mutt, “I gotta’ warm you up, Son.”  Harley giggled and so did Mutt, “Now, that ain’t the way I meant it, and you know it!” Boone admonished then laughed.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harley.  I know'd the way you meant it.  I appreciate it, sir,” Mutt replied.

“You ain’t out of the woods until we can get you warmer.  You’s still shake'n like a 52 shovel-head what's timing is off.  You’re lips are so fuck’n blue you look like you been rimming a snowman,”  Harley said.  Mutt thought that was about the funniest damn thing anybody ever said to him.  He started laughing and got Harley laughing, too.  “As it is, we’ll be damn lucky if’n you don’t come down with pneumonia.  You better not.  I make one hell of an ugly nurse, and I make the worst damn chicken soup you ever tried to eat,” Boone threatened him.  Mutt giggled.  For all his talk and warnings to himself, Mutt couldn’t help be taken with the man who insisted on holding him tight in his arms.  Harley was so genuine, honest, laid-back and down to Earth in his approach to everything, especially friends, he made Mutt feel comfortable.

“If you get an erection, you get a hard-on!  Don’t worry about it none.  It happens, even between buddies.  I won’t tell if you don’t!  Hell, who knows, I just may pop one, too.  In fact, if you get a good stiff boner it means yore’ body temperature’s get’n back up to normal.  Sort a like one of them turkeys they cook at Thanksgiving, when they gets done the little button pops right up,” Boone declared.  Mutt giggled at Harley’s analogy.  “Don’t be goin’ and get’n too hard, though, I don’t wanna’ be pushed out a’ the fuck’n tent,” Harley roared with laughter and Mutt continued to giggle.  Mr. Harley was talking with him like they’d been buddies for years.  Harley didn’t talk down to the kid.  He shared with Mutt.  He made Mutt feel like he had worth and he was important to him.  Soon Mutt warmed up a bit and stopped shivering.  In fact, it was becoming down right cozy lying there in the spoon position with Mr. Harley.

The two men didn’t speak for a while until Boone broke their silence, “Mutt, was yore’ face always the way it is now?”  Harley asked quietly with as much understanding and concern as he could muster in his voice.

“Naw, sir, I’s a decent enough looking kid, I suppose.  I got me a pitcher in my wallet of me just 'afor I went to Nam.  I done showed it to a few folks, but nobody’ll believe it’s me.  Had me a pretty little girl I loved.  We's gonna’ get married when I come home.  We wrote each other all the time I's over there.  When I got shot up, I wrote her and told her I was wounded pretty bad, and my face was a mess from a land mine explosion.  I told her the doctors were trying to reconstruct it some, but they didn’t give me much hope of looking a lot better.  She wrote me back telling me how much she loved me, and it didn’t make no never mind to her what my face looked like.  I came back from Nam this way.  I went to see her, she took one look at me, and ran out of the room screaming.  She never wanted to see me again.  I couldn’t blame her, but maybe you can understand why I turned to men,” Mutt replied.

“Sure I can, Mutt.  That would’ve been enough to break any man’s heart and set him against women for life.  I love ‘em, but I know how they can be," Boone tried to reassured the boy.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate women, Mr. Harley.  I like Ms. Janice.  She’s kind to me, and she looks after you real good.  I just don’t think I could ever hold one close to me again.  Don’t matter much.  With this face I ain't gotta' worry none,” Mutt said and laughed.  Harley didn't.  Mutt continued, “I got half my face blown away, and you know the army, they’s only gonna’ do as much for you as they have to, to keep you alive.  They don’t give a shit what you look like,” Mutt said.

“I's over there, too, Son.  I sure as hell know what you're talk’n about.  I got first hand experience in that department.  I’ll tell you about it sometime, if I get up the nerve,” Harley replied.

“Once they patched me up and I healed a little, them son’s a’ bitches was gonna’ send me back,” Mutt said.

“Oh, fuck!  Tell me you’re lying to me, Son.  Holy shit!  You telling your buddy the truth, Mutt?” Harley couldn’t help it.  He felt tears of sorrow, sympathy, shared pain, and searing frustration forming in his eyes.

“S’God’s honest truth, Mr. Harley.  Wouldn’t never lie to my buddy.   Don’t never think that, sir.  Mutt’ll always tell you the truth.  I used to be a pretty good cowboy.  I was taught the cowboy way by my daddy and older brothers.  A cowboy don’t never tell a lie, Mr. Harley.  He don’t never turn his back on his brothers or his buddy, neither,” Mutt replied.

“I’ve heard that, Son,” Harley said.

“Them army bastards, they told me,‘You can still shoot a rifle, and you got six more months to go on your hitch.  Y’ain’t so bad you can’t serve out your term," Mutt said with disgust.

“Son! of! a! bitch!  I believe you, Son.  I don’t want to, but I do,” Harley relpied.

“I's just gonna’ go at first.  I thought maybe I’d just get killed right away and not have ta’ worry none about living without no face.  Then I got to thinking about it.  I started having night sweats, wakin’ up yelling and screaming.  I knew I couldn’t go back.  I got to think’n it was pretty damn chicken shit of ‘em.  I figured I done my fuck’n share.  Hell, they got my Goddamn face out a’ the deal and three of my brothers were dead.  I asked them how much was enough for a man to have to suffer before they sent him home?  I told them I lost my three brothers and my best buddy was killed the same time my face was blown off.  What the fuck did they want from me?  Their answer to me was to just shut the fuck up and do my job.

"I got really mad.  They acted like they just didn’t give a damn what I’d been through or how much I lost.  It meant nothing to them.  They were only interested in me doing what they told me to do.  Just shut up, don't give 'em no problems, and go along with their crap.  I’d had enough of army bullshit.  I told ‘em to shove their six months and Nam up their butts, I weren’t going back.  If they sent me back I wouldn’t fight.  I’d refuse to obey any order.  Then they told me they's gonna’ court marshal me.  Hell, I’d rather spend six months to a year in Leavenworth than go back to that rotten, stink’n hell hole.  I told ‘em bastards to go on ahead.  Do it!  At least I’d be warm, get decent food, and wouldn’t have to worry every fuck’n minute I’s gonna’ get the other side of my head blow'd off.

"I got myself a civilian lawyer; a nice little lady.  I still write to her now and then to thank her.  She took my case pro bono.  The army didn’t want no big law suit.  She told ‘um with a civilian jury I’d win hands down on sympathy alone.  Did they really wanna’ take a chance of pushing it and have her client awarded a large sum of money to boot?  She felt she had an open and shut case for undue stress, hardship, and punitive damages against the military.  She pointed out at least fifteen other similar cases, not as bad as what I went through, where the defendants won every damn one.  She rattled off huge sums of money each one was awarded.  She also pointed out she would see to it my ugly face was on the cover of ever’ damn magazine and newspaper in the U.S. telling what an injustice was being done to a service man who’d lost three of his brothers and watched his buddy blown to bits in front of him.

"That little lady was no bigger’n a minute, but she was one fire cracker of a lawyer.  She put the fear of God in them military lawyer types.  I enjoyed watch’n them tight-ass know-it-all bastards squirm in their seats, and Mr. Harley, them son’s a’ bitches squirmed like worms in hot ashes.  They were the same shit-heads what done told me they's gonna’ court marshal me,” Mutt said.  Harley laughed with Mutt.  Mutt continued, “The military hates publicity.  They’ll do anything to you they think they can get away with, but they hate like hell when some dog face says 'no' and stands up to them.  They sure as hell didn’t want no controversy so they backed down real quick-like.  Even though I's awarded three damn medals, they's gonna’ give me a general discharge.  My little attorney lady bowed her back and said, 'Oh, no you’re not!  This man gets full honorable discharge with all benefits or we’ll sue you big time.  After I get through with you assholes, he’ll have so much money he won’t need your benefits.'

"She wanted to continue the fight after she got me an honorable discharge plus all my benefits, but I was tired, I hurt, I was depressed, and disappointed with my county and fuck’n government.  I was grieving for my brothers whom I loved more than life itself.  I just didn’t give a shit no more, Mr. Harley.  I wanted out.  I wanted to go home.  I told her I’d accept what she won me.  She done a good job, and I didn’t really want no more.  She cried and begged me not, too, Mr. Harley.  By the time the military got through fiddle-fart’n around deciding what they's gonna’ do with me my six months was up anyways.  She made ‘um give me all the muster out pay any man gets including the several months they held me for prosecution.  She pointed out to them a punitive damage award would be one hell of a lot more.

"It ain’t so bad, Mr. Harley.  A lot of guys are worse off than me.  At least I can get out and go.  I ain’t in no bed or wheel chair.  I can ride my bike.  I can enjoy the beautiful county.  I see lots of wonderful things a lot of folks never get to see.  Aside from what them lawyers put me through and what they done to me, I still love my country.  I don’t figure my country deserves my love very much, but your country is like the greatest love of your life; you love ‘em unconditionally.  I ain’t talking, ‘my country right or wrong’ bullshit neither.  My country’s been wrong in the past and it probably will be again in the future.  It’s up to me to see we don’t let them fat cats in Washington get us into another uncalled for war to line their fuck’n pockets.  There ain't no cause so great, ‘sides protecting our homeland against direct attack, we should send men to die like we done in Vietnam.  Fifty-eight thousand, two hundred and twenty-nine men give their lives for nothing.  To say nothing of the thousands like me who are permanently damaged and forgotten.

"I c'ain’t settle nowheres.  Folks think because of my looks I’m a bad person.  Nobody never seems to wanna’ gimme' a chance.  You’s the only one in this group of bikers what's ever asked me how my face came to be so fucked up.  They don’t never try to get to know me.  About the only folks who’ll accept me or even let me hang around them are bikers.  Most don’t care what you look like until it comes to sharing their sack for sex.  Then they want somebody pretty.  I don’t exactly fall into that category,” Mutt said and laughed a little.  Harley remained quiet.
 
Sharing their body warmth did the trick to stop Mutt from shivering and possibly getting pneumonia or worse.  The more Mutt told about what the government tried to do to him the madder Harley got and his temperature shot up. ‘Maybe the Old Man told me to ask Mutt that question so’s it would save his life?’ Harley thought to himself and smiled.  Harley popped a boner and Mutt could feel it poking him in his back.

Mutt giggled softly to himself.  “What chu’ giggling at, boy?” Harley ask sternly.  Mutt didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything.  “Would you like to take me, Son?” Harley asked quietly.

Mutt never heard the term before.  “Take you where, Mr. Harley?” he asked.

 Harley started laughing.  “Ain’t never heard that line before, huh, Son?” Harley asked still laughing.

“Naw, sir, but now’s I think on it, if it means what I think it means, I’d be downright proud and honored, Mr. Harley.  I promise I’ll give you the best damn blow job you ever got, sir,”  Mutt replied with enthusiasm.

 “Okay, but let’s get one thing straight!  I ain’t doing this 'cause I feel sorry for you or I feel like I gotta' repay you for what you done for me.  It ‘ud take a hell of a lot more to repay you than just let’n you suck my dick!  I’m asking a favor of my buddy because I’m horny as hell, and you’s my buddy.  Buddies take care of each other; right, Son?” Harley asked.

“Right, Mr. Harley.  I’d be downright proud to pleasure my buddy, sir,” Mutt replied.

“This’ll be between you’n me.  We won’t say a word about this to nobody.  Not because I’d be ashamed, but because I’m mostly straight.  Once in a while, I don’t mind having a man give me a blow job.  Ain’t never found a woman who could give a decent blow job, no ways.  Takes a man to know how to suck another man’s dick,” Harley declared.

“By God, I promise Mr. Harley.  I understand, and I promise with all my heart, sir, I won't never say nothing,” Mutt replied.

“Okay, Son, I believe you.  Now, get chore’self on down n’ere, open your present, and let’s see how good you can make your ole buddy feel,” Boone challenged him.

This was one time Mutt didn’t hesitate.  He was good to his word and gave Harley a five star blow job.  The kid proved he was a cowboy, and he didn’t lie.  Best damn blow job Harley ever got.  Mutt thought the big man was going to blow his head off when he shot in his mouth.  Harley had his hands gently around Mutt’s head caressing and urging him on like a football coach calling the plays.  “Oh, Mutt, Buddy!  Damnation, that feels so fine, Son.  Oh, Mutt, you ain’t ugly, buddy.  You ain’t ugly a ‘tall.  You couldn’t be ugly and make a man feel that good, Son.  Oh, yeah!   God I can’t believe how good it feels.  Fuck!  Go for the good stuff, Son.  Take all that big thing you think you can handle, good buddy.  Oh, my God, Mutt.  You better back off a ways if’n you want to taste ole Harley ‘cause here it comes,” Harley shouted and shot three huge volleys into Mutt’s waiting and hungry mouth.  Mutt hadn’t swallowed any good tasting man come since the last time he was in jail, and the guy gave him crabs in his moustache.  They finished, Mutt cleaned Harley up real good and carefully put his flaccid penis back in his Wranglers.

Harley pulled Mutt up to him and held him close.  He kissed him gently behind the ear.  “Thanks, buddy, I really appreciate that.  Damned if ya’ ain’t a cowboy.  You shore’ as hell didn’t lie to me none.  Best damn blow job I ever got, bar-none,” Boone complimented him.

“I appreciate you letting me help you out, Mr. Harley,” Mutt replied.

Both men were tired to the point of exhaustion and fell fast asleep in each others arms.  They were  awakened the next morning by a highway patrolman tapping lightly on their boots.  The rain was gone and the sun was shining.  “You men all right?” The officer asked in a concerned tone.

Harley got out of the tent, yawned and stretched.  “Yes, sir, Officer.  My tire went flat yesterday afternoon and my buddy took my wheel into the next town, took my old lady in to get her a motel, and he rode all the way back out here in the pouring rain to bring me my wheel.  We put it on last night, but by the time we finished, there come a thunder and lightening storm out here you wouldn’t believe.  Then the fuck’n bottom dropped out.  I got my buddy in some dry clothes.  We got under our blankets for warmth, and I guess we passed out,” Harley said trying to wake up.

“You men were smart not to try’n ride in that storm last night.  Look there!  Fifty yards back of you the road’s washed clean away.  Damn good thing you didn’t stop there.  Well, if you’re all right we’ll be on our way,” the officer said touching his hat as a salute.

“Thanks for stopping to check on us, Officer.  It was right decent of you,” Harley allowed.

“Jes’ doing my job, Son, but I appreciate your thanks.  Can we take a message to your lady?" he asked.

“Naw, sir, it jes' might scare her.  We’ll be right behind you.  We’ll get packed up here and be on our way pretty quick,” Harley replied.

“Okay, have a good day.  Looks like it’s gonna’ be a nice one,” the officer said.

“Thanks again, Officer,” Harley replied.

The two patrol officers slowly pulled away and headed the same direction they were going.  Harley and Mutt got packed up and started to leave.  Harley grabbed Mutt’s arm and stopped him as he was about to turn the ignition switch to start his bike.  “Thanks, buddy, for everything,” he said looking directly into Mutt's beautiful blue eyes.

“Aww, Mr. Harely, t'weren't nothing.  I didn’t do much.  I’s just trying to help,” Mutt replied.

“You did help, and you done a fine job, Son.  Glad to call you my buddy," Harley said.

They rode into the small town and found Janice at the motel.  She was worried to death.  They told her what happened.  She grabbed Mutt, hugged, and kissed him on the cheek to thank him for being so kind.  Mutt ducked his head and blushed.  They spent the day resting, getting cleaned up, washing and drying clothes.  The family was pleased to see them, but no one asked much about their trouble.  The family decided to stay another night and Harley asked  Mutt to stay with them.  There were two large beds in the room.  Mutt declined and there was no way Harley was going to talk him into it.  Another man by the name of Big Beryl was staying by himself.  He heard Mutt needed a room and offered to share his with him.  Mutt offered the man half the room rent, but he wouldn’t take it.  He told Mutt he might need a buddy to run a flat for him sometime.  The family settled up the next morning with the motel manager and took off headed for Reno again.  This time Harley lagged behind and rode with Mutt.  Janice told Harley she felt better about it.

The big man who shared his room with Mutt rode with them.  He wasn’t a member of the Hot Dawgs, but was a member of another biker family in good standing.  He was welcome to ride with them.  He was a personal friend of Banger Deets, the leader of the Hot Dawgs, and his slave, Rondo Cabasian.  Rondo was the road captain of the group.  Mutt got to hanging around with Big Beryl.  He didn’t know Big Beryl’s preferences but Mutt didn’t care.  Beryl encouraged him to ride with him and share a camp site from time to time.  He really came to enjoy Big Beryl's company.  He was pleasant and could sometimes be painfully funny with his observations about people.   Beryl just accepted the young man for who he was and admired Mutt for his unselfish action to help Harley and Janice.  He seemed to enjoy Mutt’s company.  Mutt was attracted to the huge man but never let it be known.  While he was a rounder, Big Beryl was never one to push himself on anyone.

Aside from being a pleasant person to be around, Beryl never questioned Mutt and simply accepted him as having a good heart and being worthy to associate with.  Mutt found some modicum of happiness for himself for the first time since he returned from Nam.  Big Beryl allowed Mutt of call him 'master' and it thrilled Mutt every time he called the big man, Master Beryl.  He could fantasize about someday calling some man his master; someone he could belong to and care for.  He allowed himself to imagine Mr. Harley as his master a few times and would almost come in his jeans every time he thought about it, but he knew better than to pursue the matter.  To make matters worse his new found friend, Master Beryl, could see through Mutt’s attraction to Harley and would quietly kid him mercilessly.  Big Beryl had a wicked sense of humor and would have Mutt rolling on the ground from laughter joking with him about his big cow eyes every time Mr. Harley came around.  Beryl was never cruel, but made Mutt see the humorous side of his obvious affection for the handsome biker.  On the other hand, Beryl was not so kind about Mutt’s attraction to Spider.   

Beryl observed the scene with Spider when Mutt begged him to allow him to become his slave.  He watched as Harley came to Mutt to give him a hand and offer him comfort.  He knew the whole story and didn’t spare Mutt’s feelings.  Beryl not only thought, but knew, Spider was bad news.  He didn’t mince words when he described Spider as a no good, rotten son of a bitch.  He told Mutt of his personal knowledge of three men Spider killed in cold blood, but there wasn’t enough evidence to warrant an arrest let alone a conviction.  Even though there were several eye witnesses to the murders, Spider threatened their lives if they ever mentioned a word or tried to go to the police.  They didn’t, they were scared to death of Spider.  They had a right to be, they saw first hand what he was capable of.  Beryl went on to tell Mutt how lucky a young man he was to have Spider dismiss him so harshly.

“You may not realize it, Son, but you got an angel sit'n on yore' shoulder or the Old Man his-self is looking out after you.  Somebody up there saved you from a terrible fate.  You ride with me and ole Harley.  You’ll find somebody sooner than you think.  Trust me, but you gotta' stop looking for it.  Solid relationships never come to you when you go out and beat the bushes looking for it.  You gotta' lay back, be a good man, and the whatever's in charge will drop it in your lap afore you know it,” Beryl said.

Mutt wasn’t so sure about Master Beryl’s opinion of Spider.  He was attracted to Spider big time, but most of it was because he was denied.  A man always wants what he can’t have.  Spider was a biker with a universally bad reputation.  It wasn’t the first time Mutt heard Spider killed three men.  Mutt knew Spider wasn’t such a wonderful person, but thought, perhaps his love could change him; maybe show him the way.  If Mutt loved him with all his heart, if he was a good slave for him, maybe it would change him.  If he only had a chance to prove to him how much he was capable of loving him, perhaps he would wake up, see the treasure he had in the young man, and make Mutt his slave.  Mutt’s problem was, he never was away from home before going to Nam.  He was born and raised on a large Southwest Texas working ranch.  He had a number of brothers, but he lost three of them in Nam.  Mutt never went out into the world before.  He had little exposure to people.  He had no idea the depth of some folk’s meanness, their inability, or open defiance of change for the better.  Mutt thought, maybe all they needed was someone to love them enough to show them the way.

“What did your folks say when you got home from Nam, Son?” Beryl asked.

“Ain’t been home, Master Beryl,” Mutt replied.

“They know you’re back, don’t they?” Beryl asked.

“Naw, sir, I's reported missing in action and the army ain’t never cleared it up.  They probably think I’s dead.  That’s what I want ‘em to think.  I don’t never want ‘em to see me like this.  Here, let me show you some'um,” Mutt said reaching for his wallet in his hip pocket.  Mutt opened it, reached into his biker wallet, and pulled out a laminated picture of a young, good looking cowboy standing between four of his big brothers.  He had a big worshipful smile on his face to have his picture taken with these men who were obviously his heroes.

“That chu’ in the middle, Son?" Beryl asked.

“Yes, sir, Master Beryl.  Some folks say I weren’t a bad looking kid,” Mutt said shyly.

“You were a damn fine looking young man, Mutt.  Still are.  The light what shines within you, can’t never be turned off until we die, Son.  You gotta' learn you got chore' own special kind of beauty, and don’t you never let no sum-bitch tell you different.  Don’t let some crazy bastard like Spider make you feel less than who you are.  You’re a good man, Mutt, and from this pitcher I can tell you came from a loving family and got a good background.  I can’t approve of what your doing to yore’ family.  Them folks love you, boy.  I can see it in the pitcher.  H’it ain’t right they lost three other sons and don’t know they ain’t lost a fourth.  How long you been back now, Son?" Beryl asked.

“A little over a year and a half, Master Beryl.”

“Damnation, Son!  I know it wouldn’t matter none to yore’ folks what you look like so long’s they know you ain’t dead.  Look at you!  You’re a fine strapping, strong, young man with a fine body.  I’m certainly happy to call you my friend and buddy, and I know that fuck’n Harley would do anything in the world for you.  He talks about chu’ like you's some kind a’ saint.  All I’m say’n is, h’it just ain’t right, Mutt, you denying yore’ loved one’s that a’ way," Beryl said.

“I know.  You’re right, Master Beryl, but I ain’t had the courage to go home.  I couldn’t take it if my old man or mom took a look at me and turned away like my girlfriend done.  I wouldn’t wanna’ go on living, sir,” Mutt's eyes began to tear up.

“All I can tell you, young’un, if’n you was my boy, I’d want you next to me with my arm around you, just like it is now, telling you how grateful to God I was you’s alive and by my side.  Hell, Son, you ain’t even my boy, and I’m glad God let chu’ live so’s I could meet you and share a campfire with you.  We both had a hard row to hoe it seems like to me.  Lean on me a little if’n you need to.  I ain’t the best of men, I got more flaws than a mangy old hound dog, but I’m a damn good listener, and I don’t charge much,” the big man said and grinned.

He got the boy laughing at his joke and Mutt hugged Beryl closer,  “Thanks, Master Beryl, I’m proud to call you my friend, and I’ll try not to lean too hard,” Mutt replied.

“I’d never offer if’n I thought you was that way, Mutt.  I see you working hard everyday to be accepted, and it ain’t always been easy for you.  I’m just say'n when it gets really tough and you need someone to lean on, come crawl up in old Master Beryl’s lap, and he’ll tell you what a good boy you are,” Beryl said like the big daddy bear he was.  Mutt got a tear in his eye, but Beryl wiped it away.  Mutt felt like he was really lucky.  He had two friends.  Two good hearted men who saw more than just his ugly scarred and misshapen face.


End Chapter 1 ~ Harley & Mutt
Copyright ©  2003 ~ 2011 ~ Waddie Greywolf
All rights reserved
Mail to: waddiebear@yahoo.com
WC 8563  Proofed: 04/11/2011