================================================================= BASTARDS WHO FUCKED OVER ME ================================================================= 8 Maynard and Marshall rumored to be doing it. ================================================================= If our 'hood had a bad ass, it was Maynard. He even looked like Maynard G Krebs. Marshall was the miniature Dobie but with dark hair, if you remember the Dobie Gillis teevee series. Maynard was feared and eschewed by nearly everybody because he had been in Fort Grant, the state industrial school for boys, and rode a motorcycle. Maynard had no use for all his stuck-up and self-righteous neighbors. He'd as likely give you the finger and yell Fuck You as tell you what time it was. He thought I was a little pussy. Evidently he'd heard about my extracurricular activites. I never approached him for fear he would beat my ass. He was also, at sixteen, the hairiest person I had ever seen. Ick. The only time I ever spent in his presence was once when I was passing by and he hailed me. I figured if he wanted to bash me for being a fruit I might as well let him because he would get me eventually. I guess I _was_ a pussy. I went into his house and we sat on the couch. He asked if I wanted a beer. I didn't like the smell and declined. There were two cans from a six-pack on the coffee table. I figured the other four were already in Maynard. He popped the fifth one and took a long pull, slammed the can down, and belched loudly and longly like my old man did when he wanted to piss off my mother. Word around the neighborhood is that you're a queer, he declared. Uh oh. Here it comes. I need to get ready to die. Might as well tough it out. So? Well, Maynard said, it's okay with me if you want to be a faggot dick smoker, but you better be careful who knows about it. You know Marshall? he said. Yeah. If I told you I fucked Marshall's ass would you believe me? I said No, I wouldn't. Well, you better get used to it, Maynard said. He made two triangular holes in the last beer with the copper A-1 brand "church key". Cattle and copper, the two cash crops in Arizona. Both were rediculously plentiful then and used for everything. A-1 Beer, the official Phoenix brew, was enjoyed from beaner bars like Conchita's Place on South 16th to the rarified patios at Del Webb's Mountain Shadows Resort in Scottsdale. Here was Maynard getting sloppy and giving the beverage a bad name. Yeah, he said , Marshall's a fairy just like you. You two ought to get together and wear dresses. I told him as calmly as I would have a hanging judge that I didn't feel the need to try to be a girl. Maynard allowed that Marshall didn't go for that shit either. Maynard couldn't figure out how a guy could be a queer and look normal when another guy could paint his face and put on a dress and be queer. This is all a joke, ain't it, Maynard asked. I said I guessed it all depended upon what you wanted to do, how you wanted people to see you. Oh well bullshit, Maynard hissed. Everybody knows you're a fat fairy. I oughtta beat your ass for being a fuckin' fruitcake but you never did anything to piss me off. I felt like I had half a reprieve from my death sentence. I carefully ventured a question. (If there is anything unstoppable in a queen it's the compulsion to go after some good dish!) Um, did you _really_ do it to Marshall, I asked. Yeah, I did. Maynard sat back and looked pleased with himself. He continued, Marshall heard about you and he said he wanted to do it to a guy but he didn't know how to get next to you. I volunteered that I thought Marshall knew about me but that he didn't approve of me because he never spoke to me. Yeah, Maynard said, I told you he was a pussy. Maynard said, I set him straight that he sure as hell wasn't going to try any shit with me -- that if he wanted to be broke in good, I could do it cuz I had me some _good_ bitches when I was at Fort Grant. So, what I'm tellin' ya is, I fucked Marshall's tight little ass and he smoked my dick a few times. Hell, me and my girlfriend were on the outs and I don't like usin' Rosie Palm and her five sisters cuz you can go blind that way. Look atchou -- got the thickest motherfuckin' glasses I ever saw. Maybe Marshall will let you fuck him so you don't ruin your eyes. I knew if I laughed, I was dead dead dead. He would smash me like a bug. I said halfheartedly, Thanks for the suggestion; I gotta get home. Maynard wobbled to the door and saw me out. I never did approach Marshall. I was afraid what I'd heard was a bunch of alcoholic ranting or I'd been bullshitted like never before. A little later I got involved with Keith who claimed to know for fact that Maynard fucked Marshall.