The boy went for counseling every Friday and talked about his mother. The counselor identified his mother as his main problem. He hated his mother but in forty three sessions, by forty two he thought about killing his counselor.
Now at work on the stamping machine all he ever thought about was getting his two hands around the counselor’s throat and squeezing.
He was beginning to like his mother, who was dead.
Mary told me first off, “Lem I’m not interested in any sex with you.”
They all three went off the island for a weekend in Gainesville for the ‘Almost Engaged’ one. Then the kissey, kissey lesbo girls went to a dark motel in Ocala. I slept with the radio on.
My three fellow workers didn’t think of me as male, but just pranced around in their undies. Well I never complained.
Hundreds of years ago Indian women had probably danced for males on that island, well then maleness would have been asserted. That was hard not to think about.
The author can be contacted at: rcates2@cox.net The full story is at: http://seeyousoonlen.wordpress.com
The fax number for the author is: 1-352-629-1573 His mailing address is: 121 NE 13th Ave. Ocala, Florida 34470
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