Tuesday, October 26, 1999


This story originally appeared on the Secret Garden website and is archived here at the request of author Doug Rogers.


Cal Clemens became acutely aware he was being watched as he was waiting his turn on the lumbering ski lift. He usually didn't like it when the older guys came on to him. Most of them were fat and gross, even here at a winter resort where one would assume a requirement of physical fitness to take advantage of the attractions. But this guy was different. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five and he looked like he worked out several times a week. He was a hottie.
"You gettin' on?" a voice complained from behind.
"What's it to..." he started to retort angrily. He stopped mid-sentence. The twenty-something behind him was standing there on a single ski between twin outrigger poles, his right leg obviously missing all the way up at the hip! "Like I said," he quickly added, "what does it take to get this line moving! Here, dude, you go on ahead. I've got something I need to check."
The amputee passed him and took the waiting chair on the lift. Cal watched as he disappeared up the line, fascinated by the single idly-swinging ski hanging from the chair. He shook his head. Damn! Those guys made him so hot! He'd always had thing 'thing' for amps. His father had a friend who had only one leg, and Cal had seem him around at family functions for as long as he could remember. The man, 'Uncle Bill,' had always been kind to him, once even removing his artificial leg to let the curious youngster inspect how it was made. He smiled, remembering the nights he had folded a leg up in his pajama bottoms and played at 'being' Uncle Bill.
"What run are you going to try today?" a different voice asked, breaking the reverie.
Cal snapped out of his daydream. It was the thirty-something who'd been giving him 'the eye.' "Red Canyon," he replied, then idly bent down to inspect his left binding. "How 'bout you?"
"Funniest thing," came the reply. "I'm going to do Red Canyon as well!"
"Yeah, how the fuck about that?" Cal thought silently. God! Did he have 'Gay Boy' stenciled on his forehead or something? Could the guy have thought of a more obvious pickup line?

"Skiing with anyone?" the man continued pleasantly.
"Naw, I was going to go it alone."
"Dangerous. That's a treacherous trail. Why not partner with me on it?"
Cal started to blow him off but before he could speak the man offered his hand to shake and added: "I'm James Standing. Dr. James Standing. Good to meet you!"
Cal's left eyebrow went up noticeably. "Good to meet you, Doc," he returned. "Cal Clemens."
"Are you here with your parents?" the physician asked.
"No. I'm nineteen," Cal told him. "I just look young."
It was the doctor's turn to smile and raise an eyebrow. "Well, how about the trail?"
"Let's do it!" came the enthusiastic reply.
As they were sharing a lift up the hill, Cal casually asked: "What kind of doctor are you, Doc?"
"Just a regular family practice M.D. Nothing special."
"You seem kinda young, too."
"Thank you, but I'm thirty-eight." He smiled. "I do work out pretty hard three or four days a week. Maybe that's what's helping to hold back the clock."
Below the pair, the young man with one leg Cal had given his lift seat to whizzed down the sleek whiteness of the trail. "Those guys amaze me," Cal offered, nodding in the monopede's direction.
"What guys are those?"
"The man with one leg who just went under us. Did you notice him?"
"I'm afraid not."
"It amazes me how a person with one leg can balance," Cal added. "I guess humans are pretty adaptable dudes."
"Yes, indeed," his companion answered, then added, "I think this is where we get off," as he gestured to a boarding tower just ahead.
As things worked out, the ski run was fun. Cal had to admit that the doc was pretty good. He had trouble keeping up with him! When they got to the bottom of the run, he wasn't surprised at what came next.
"You up for some dinner?" the older man asked.
"Sure. I could eat." Cal smiled internally. This had possibilities. And hey! The dude may be old, but he's buff and kind of cute.
"Let's don't do the lodge dining room," he suggested. "I know of a really great steak house just a few miles from here."
"Sounds good. Lead the way."
The evening was predictable in every possible way. The intimate dinner where the first fleeting references to sexual orientation were explored was followed by the suggestion that the pair spend the night at the good doctor's cabin a mile or so from the main lodge building. It wasn't until after he'd gone down on the guy that Cal left the bed and closed the door in the bathroom.
"Where'd you go?" Jim asked.
"I know you're gonna think I'm a shit," Cal told him, "but I don't swallow. I know it's sort of strange these days, but I never have liked to do it."
"No problem for me," the doctor answered, "but I've got Kleenex right here." He reached his arms out for the young man. "Come back to bed."
Cal snuggled into the strong arms again, romantically placing his head on Jim's shoulder. He took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any to see if this was going to work. "I wonder if I could talk to you about a medical issue?" he asked sweetly.
"Sure," came to happy reply. "I think you've earned a free consult."
"Okay." Cal took another deep breath. "I want to know what you have to do to cut a leg off."
The silence was palpable. Cal wondered for a few moments if his companion had understood the question.
"Do what?" Jim finally replied.
"How hard is it for a doctor to cut off a leg?" he repeated. "I keep thinking about that guy we saw on the slopes today," Cal explained. "The one with only one leg. What happened when he lost it?"
Jim sort of recomposed himself. "I suppose he either had an accident or some disease like cancer or an infection like gangrene. Those are the most common reasons why doctors are forced to amputate a limb. Why do you ask?"
"That's not what I meant. I mean, what does a doctor have to do to cut a leg off. What do you have to do to do it?"
"Uh, well... I've never actually done the operation," Jim sputtered. "I'm a family practice guy, you see. I only even saw an amputation once when I was an intern." He paused a moment looking inot into the deep eyes awaiting an answer. He decided to continue. "Let's see... it's fairly straightforward... You cut through the various skin and muscle layers with a scalpel, saw through the bone... Usually the surgeon bores some holes through the end and attaches the muscles there to improve stump function. Then you just sew the whole thing up and wait for it to heal." He took a deep breath. "Does that answer your question?"
Cal was silent for a moment. "Sort of."
"Why in the world would you ask a thing like that?" the doctor asked again.
"Easy," Cal told him. "I want to have my leg cut off."
Every muscle in Jim Standing's body stiffened. He recoiled a couple of feet from his companion. "Are you out of your mind?" he finally asked.
"Probably. But it's what I want. Can you do the job, Doc?"
"I can't do a thing like that!"
"Why not? You said you'd seen it done. You are a doctor, aren't you?"
"Cal, this is nuts! First, I can't just hack someone's leg off for no good reason. There are ethical issues, medical review boards, and all sorts of red tape! I'd lose my license for a thing like that. Then there's the much more pressing issue of what losing a leg does to a person's life! The amputee is sentenced to limited mobility... difficulty in finding a job... social isolation... lots of issues for the rest of their life! I couldn't inflict that on anyone unnecessarily."
"Calm down, Doc," Cal said, smiling a crooked grin. "I know all about all that."
"So why in the world would you want me to do something so insane?"
"It's not insane. I don't want you to chop it off at the hip like that guy on the slope. I'm not that nuts. I want you to take my right leg off about half way between the ankle and the knee. I could use an artificial leg real easy with that sort of amputation, right? That way, when I wanted to be a gimp, I could go on crutches; when I didn't want it to be an issue, I'll just wear the leg." He smiled. "I've thought it all out, Doc. This is the most rad body mod that anyone can think of. It's cooler that tats, makes a stronger statement than piercings, and I want it."
Jim sat up. "Well, I won't do it," he said finally. "And that's the end of it!"
Cal smiled. "Okay, Doc, anything you say. By the way, I need a ride back to the lodge."
"Why? I thought you were staying the night."
"Well, I'd like to, but I'm not sure what my folks are going to say about that," Cal purred. "See, I'm afraid I lied to you on the slopes. I'm only seventeen years old."
Somehow it didn't surprise Jim at all to get the call from Cal early the following morning. "Meet me at the top of Red Canyon Run at ten" had been the message. The young man had delivered it in terse stern tones and hung up before giving the physician a chance to answer. Somehow, Jim knew he had no choice.
On the way to the ski lift he kept turning it all over and over in his mind. Why was he feeling so threatened by this boy? He wondered.
Then, of course, it might be nothing at all. The boy might just want to talk.
Damn! What a talk that had been last night. Even on the drive home, Jim had continued to explain, or at least attempt to explain to the youngster just how crazy his desire was. Damn it! An artificial leg is not a fully functioning replacement for a lost member. It's an adaptive appliance intended to allow the user to function as normally as possible. What was this dope thinking? That it was just a normal leg you could slip on and off as the situation warranted? Tattoos, piercings, even those absurd metal implant things that some of the kids were doing these days... none of these compromised a man's ability to get around, to be normal! He had decided to keep the appointment more to make sure that Cal wasn't about to do anything foolish than for any other reason.
Perhaps the craziness of the idea had already dawned on the young man. Perhaps that was what he wanted to tell his friend.
Jim hopped off the lift at the Red Canyon station. Cal was standing there waiting for him, casually leaning against the attendant's hut.
"Good to see ya this morning, Doc!" came the cheery greeting.
Jim offered his hand, removing the heavy ski glove in the process. "Good to see you again, Cal. How are you?"
"I'm great this morning," he piped.
Jim Standing sighed with relief. "You really gave me a start last night," he almost whispered. "All that amputation nonsense really freaked me out. I'm glad to see you've come to your senses."
Cal chuckled audibly. "Yeah, well, you know how kids are." He looked toward the run. "Let's race down to the tree line. We'll stop there and rest. I have something I want to show you."
"Yeah. Down at the tree line." And he was gone.
The wind tore by as if propelled by some powerful jet engine hidden ahead of them, but instead on intense heat, biting cold was driving deep into the masks that protected both men's features. Jim laughed to himself as Cal almost wound up losing his traction in one absurdly tight turn he attempted, but the boy never lost his balance completely. It was not until the agreed-upon dark wall of the tree line loomed ahead that the young man turned to brake his speed and waited momentarily for his companion to catch up.
"Not bad for an old man," Cal popped.
"Not bad for a guy who look a big lead," Jim replied. He looked around. "What was it you wanted to show me up here?"
Cal also looked around, as if making sure that no one else was coming down the slope to see them. "Let's get out of the skis for a few minutes and get out of sight," he said.
"Um, I don't think that's a good idea, Cal."
"Why?" he asked. "Don't you love me any more?" There was a sardonic edge to the voice that one would have expected from a spurned lover ten or more years older.
"I shouldn't have done what I did last night," Jim began.
"But you did," Cal said, cutting him off. He smiled. "You let me kiss and love you until you shot a big load of your stuff. There's nothing that's going to change that."
Jim looked around. "What are you up to?"
"Just this." The young man reached into the pocket of his parka. He withdrew a plastic ziplock bag and waved it in front of him. "I wonder what would happen if anyone were to stop and think how I wound up with a bag full of your jiz!"
"Where the hell did you get that?" he demanded.
"Easy, Jim," he answered sweetly. "Remember when I told you I didn't swallow? I had this old sandwich bag in my backpack." He smiled. "My mom is so thoughtful. Anyway, I just spit it in here instead of the john, then flushed. You were none the wiser."
Jim began to shiver. It suddenly seemed twenty degrees colder on the already freezing slope.
"So the deal is this: I've got your scum and you've got something I want. I think we ought to talk about a trade."
"What is it you want?" The doctor was clueless.
Cal smiled. "Isn't it obvious? I want you to do the amputation I want. I want you to cut my leg off!"
"You're insane."
"Yeah, well, maybe so. But you're the one looking at a stretch in the pen for statch. I hear they really like guys who do little kids in prison. Have special treatment for them."
Jim looked around. It was irrational, but he hoped that somewhere, somehow there would be help arriving. Of course nothing answered his gaze.
"You have no idea what you're asking."
"Jim, Jim, Jim. We covered all that last night. I know exactly what I'm asking. I've been pretending for years."
"I mean, in terms of the surgery. Where would you like me to do it? Here? You'd die. I don't even have the kind of anesthetic it would take to put you under that deep. You want to feel me sawing through the bones?"
"Isn't there a hospital where you practice? How about that?"
"I practice in Louisville, Kentucky. That's six-hundred miles away!"
"Neat. I live in Cincy. So, how about I drive down some weekend and you do it?"
"Yeah, that's going to work. A perfectly healthy kid checks in to the hospital one day and leaves a week later with only one leg. Yeah. That's really going to work!" He bit his lip. "There's jail time in that one for sure. I'm screwed, either way this goes."
Cal started locking his skis back onto his boots. "Yeah, sort of looks that way," he agreed meanly. "My folks are going to be here four more days. You figure something out by Friday night or I'm going to make your life a living hell. I'll be at the top of the run every morning at ten. Meet me there when you've got it worked out."
And he was gone.
Jim stood facing the wind. It was beginning to snow again.
There had to be a way to make all of this go away. Jim's mind was in overdrive. It was evening and he was sitting in the living room of his private cabin in front of what should have been a cheerful fire, watching the flakes fall outside. A man caught in this mess would have real problems, he nodded. He took a pull at this whiskey and soda.
He smiled.
Perhaps there was a way.
It was ten-twenty the next morning, and the snow was still falling. The lodge hadn't closed the trails yet, but had told all of the guests to be on the alert if the snow worsened. Visibility would become questionable, and the trail closure siren might sound at any time.
Jim and Cal were back at the tree line, the younger man listening intently to the plan being outlined by the elder.
"So, can you manage that?" Jim asked.
"Yeah, that's just a matter of my walking away from the lodge and heading for your cabin on foot. In all this white shit no one will notice and the way it's comin' down there won't be any footprints to tip off a search party. Yeah. I can make that happen."
"Fine. I'll be waiting for you as soon as it's dark. We can get this done tonight."
"I know this is going to sting, Cal, but this will be the worst time. I have to do these injections deep. Once we get your leg numbed up it won't bother you nearly as much when I have to give you the boosters."
"Let's get this done," Cal said, a little irritably. He stuck his bare right leg out and placed the heel of his foot on the wooden stool next to the fireplace. "At least the drugs ought to take the edge off this sprain. It hurts like shit!"
"Spraining your ankle on the way over here actually plays into our plan beautifully," Jim told him. "It explains how you lost your boot wandering around out in the storm. You tripped and took it off to examine the damage. By the time you were ready to move on, it was buried in the snow and that was that."
Jim gently slipped the stent into the soft area at the top of the right leg. He guessed he was quite near the femoral nerve by the twitch he saw in the lower part of the extremity.
"Damn that hurts!" Cal complained.
"Just a second," Jim promised. "Grit your teeth. This is going to sting." He took a syringe of lydocaine, stuck it into the rubber covering of the stent, and pressed the plunger.
"GODDAM! That hurts!"
"It'll stop in just a second." Jim watched his patient relax a bit. "Better?"
"Yeah. God, but that stung like a sonuvabitch for a few seconds."
"Okay, let's get a couple more in there."
"No way!"
"Look, the next ones aren't going to hurt. The area around the infusion is deadened already. I just need to force the numbing deeper." He worked as he spoke. Cal was surprised that the doctor was right. There was no further discomfort.
"Okay," Jim told him. "Put your foot down into this container."
"Aren't you going to take the damned needle out?" Cal almost demanded.
"No. That has to stay in. You're going to need several more shots of pain killer as we go along. If I have to stick you ten times some smartass even the Podunk local hospital is going to want to know what was going on. This way, I can explain that I gave you a shot for the pain when I found you and it's all explained away. Don't worry about it, son. You're not ever going to feel that needle again."
Cal raised an eyebrow and said nothing. He was busy being surprised. "My leg doesn't work already!"
"Imagine that." Jim smiled. "Here. Let me help." He gently took the boy's thigh and bent the now totally relaxed knee, placing the foot into the bottom of a plastic pail. There was a good two inches of snow already lining it's bright yellow surface. Jim watched the surprised face above him.
"I don't feel a thing!"
"That's the plan."
Jim began to pack snow from another plastic pail into the container until it reached the top. The snow came up to roughly the middle of Cal's calf.
"Here, take this blanket and cover up."
"Why? I'm sitting here by the fire." Cal was puzzled.
Jim began to tuck the blanket around his patient. "The snow is going to pull a hell of a lot of heat out of your body. You're going to get quite cold before this is over. Trust me on this one."
The phone rang. Jim answered it, acted surprised, said a few more words and hung up.
"That was the lodge," he told Cal. "Did you know that a young man is lost out in this storm tonight?"
The young man simply shivered.
"How's it comin', Doc," Cal asked through chattering teeth. He could hardly believe what was happening to him. He was sitting before a cozy fire in a warm cabin, wrapped in a blanket, but his right foot and the majority of his calf was encased in snow. The anesthetic that was renewed from time to time by the doctor was keeping him from actual pain, but he felt like he was freezing to death!
"I'll check," Standing told him. The physician cleared some of the snow away. The tissues had responded as he had expected. Over the first hour or so, the skin had reddened as the blood had coursed there to try and counteract the chilling effects of the ice crystals. Slowly, as the red flood had begun to lose the battle of heat exchange, the skin had turned to a waxy, pale color. Now, some six hours into the process, the limb was beginning to take on the bluish color that indicated the frostbite had invaded the underlying tissues. "Hang in there," he told his patient. "It's almost frozen solid. We're getting there."
"Is it time for more shot?" Cal slurred.
Jim looked at his watch. Three A.M. "Cal, I think we can try it without one now."
"No way!" the young man complained. "You promised you'd keep it from hurting!"
"It's not going to hurt," Jim assured him. "That foot's dead. As in not alive any more. It can't feel a thing."
Cal shivered again. "You sure?"
"Trust me."
There was a knock at the door.
Jim and Cal locked eyes for a moment. Jim looked around and saw an extra quilt he'd placed on the sofa but not used. He grabbed it and tossed it over Cal's head.
"Coming," he called as he unbuttoned and then removed his shirt. He unlocked the door. A warmly dressed young man stood on the stoop.
"Search and rescue," he announced. "Can I come in?"
Jim's eyes cut to the fireplace. What the hell was he going to do now. "Sure, come in and warm up," he mumbled.
The fellow stepped across the threshold and obviously eyed the warm fire. "Wish I could," he returned, "but If I warm up much it'll just take me that long to get used to the cold again. I was just checking to see if there had been anything strange going on tonight. We've been out all night looking for a kid who apparently got lost from the lodge."
"Yeah, they called earlier. I've been sleeping here in front of the fire. Haven't really heard a thing since early evening."
"Well, we're about to call it off for the night, I think. If the boy's still out in this, he's either dead or he's found enough shelter to make it until the morning. Weather forecast says the storm out ought to move out about six."
"Stay safe," Jim told the searcher as he headed toward the door.
It took a moment for the shivers to pass from the doctor's body. He returned to Cal and removed the covering. "That was close," he almost whispered.
"What would you have done if he'd wanted to come in and get the chill off?" he asked.
"I was just making it up as I went along. What would you have done?"
Cal said nothing. He drifted off to sleep as Jim was re-packing the snow in the pail.
Cal became aware that the wind had died down the next time he awakened. It was light outside. He shook his head. Someone was calling his name. "Ok," he finally answered. "Whatdaya want?"
The older man heaved a huge sigh of relief. He'd been afraid that the acute hypothermia he had induced in the limb had drained the rest of the boy's body of too much heat. He didn't have all of the drugs with him it would have taken to try that sort of revival. He composed himself. "Welcome back. I thought I'd lost you there for a few moments."
Cal shook his head. He was still cold. "How much longer do I have to sit here and freeze? This sucks!"
"All done," Jim assured him. "Look."
Cal leaned forward. The doc was correct. His foot was resting on the floor, free of the snow and its yellow container. He couldn't feel much of anything from just below the knee down. The pale blue color from mid shin down looked really bad. Cal tried to flex the ankle. There was no response. He grinned crookedly. "No shit. You did it."
"Yes, I'm reasonably sure that this foot will have to come off," he announced. "You've got what you wanted." His face darkened a bit. "Now how about giving me what I want... that plastic bag!"
"Not here," Cal chattered back. "In my suitcase at th' lodge. Give it to you after the surgery."
Standing obviously didn't like the answer, but said nothing more about it. Instead he began with: "It's time we called the rescue on you. You're going to have to walk with me out back to the shed so we can make the tracks in the snow of my 'rescuing' you this morning."
Cal tried to rise and would have fallen on his face had the doctor not caught him. "Shit! It doesn't work at all!" he exclaimed.
Jim smiled. "That's why they're going to have to cut it off. Here, I'll help you."
He hefted the boy to his feet, pulling his right arm around his own neck. The pair had not reached the back door before they both realized Cal was going to be quite a hand full to manage out to the rear of the storage hut and back. He was just too weak from the ordeal he had endured.
"I've got a better idea," Standing told him. "Let's get you back by the fire."
That errand accomplished, Jim donned his bright blue parka and snow gloves and walked to the woodpile on the west side of the whitewashed flat board hut. He then walked to the rear of the structure and lay down in the snow, rolling around a bit. He got up, surveyed the nest he'd created, and nodded with satisfaction. It would pass muster. He then walked back to the front of the building and opened the heavy wooden door. There inside was a small sled, the kind children use for smooth hillsides. He dropped the runners on the snow, then reached for a sack that was marked 'fertilizer' and hefted it onto his shoulder.
At the nest, he dropped the bag into the depression, then picked it back up and placed it on the sled. His footprints were absolutely convincing: a man had lifted a heavy load from the place it had lain in the snow and deposited it on the sled. He smiled as he dragged his burden to the cabin, the metal rails of the sled leaving deep furrows all the way.
"We're ready," he announced as he stashed the fertilizer bag in a closet just off the main room.
"I think I need some more of that juice, Doc," Cal answered in a pinched voice. My leg's starting to really hurt about half way down."
"You're thawing out. The part of your leg that's not dead is severely damaged. That's what you're feeling." He reached for his bag. "Here." He made what would be his final injection of the local anesthetic and removed the stint he had left in Cal's thigh all night. In a few moments, Cal seemed more comfortable.
"Okay, make the call. I'm ready for this to be over."
Sometimes it's surprising just how much according to plan things do go. The call to the lodge had brought the ambulance to Jim's door within the hour. He related his story of finding the young man moaning behind the storage shed when he'd gone out for more wood. Cal's tale of having lost a boot made sense to the searchers. A fall, a sprained ankle, dropping the boot in the blinding snow and not being able to find it again... it was tragic, but these things happened in snow country. Dr. Standing was complimented by the staff at the local hospital for his wonderful first aid in thawing the injury correctly. "You really did the boy a service," the attending had told him. "If you hadn't done such a good job, I'd have had to take it almost at the knee. As it is, he's got a good mid-calf stump to work with."
In one way, Jim Standing hadn't thought much about Cal in the four months that had passed since his adventure at the ski cabin. In another way, the nagging knowledge that the young man had a DNA specimen that could send him away for a long time never left his mind. Therefore, when Cal Clemens had called him and asked to have lunch, he was at once surprised and relieved.
Jim would have known the young man anywhere but there was no doubt who he was as he walked into the casual restaurant. The sneakers, shorts, and heavy tee-shirt top he wore were standard teenager issue, but one doesn't often see that ensemble completed by a prosthetic leg! Cal's leg had obviously been amputated exactly where he'd wanted. The black socket colorfully decorated by any number of rock band decals extended just past the half-way point of the calf and a short pylon connected it to a molded foot assembly. Jim smiled. Cal was walking very well.
"Hi Doc!" was the cheery greeting. "How've you been?"
"Fine," he answered. "I see you've been doing what you'd planned."
"Yeah, I have. Spent several weeks at home recuperating, then a month or so getting this leg fitted and squared away. It took that guy at the leg place six tries to get everything right, you know, where it felt good and I didn't limp real bad."
"So, you have no regrets?"
Cal gave him a crooked smile. "Not really." He took a sip of his water. "You were right, I guess. There's more to being one-legged than I realized. This thing ain't the real thing and never will be. It's harder to do some things than it was before. But I like it. I like the challenge and I like the attention."
"The attention?"
"Hey. To the guys, this is the most rad body mod anyone in our gang ever got. And whether you believe this shit or not, it's a fuckin' chick magnet!" He giggled. "That'd be if I liked chicks."
"So it's true girls like guys with scars," Jim grinned.
"No shit!"
Jim paused. "You said the guys think it's 'rad?' Did you actually tell them you did this on purpose?" A fear was clutching at the back of his mind.
"Sure," Cal told him. "There's three more who want you to do the same thing for them this winter."
Jim Standing went pale.
"Gotcha!" Cal broke out laughing. "Just teasin', Doc."
"Don't ever do that to me!" Jim whispered loudly. "Which reminds me. Cal, I really need that bag of jiz. I know you're happy and all that, but..."
"Oh, yeah. The bag. I started to bring it here with me today," he said, "but I decided not to."
Jim's face paled again. "And why not? I did my part of this devil's bargain."
"Because, it really won't accomplish anything," Cal answered. He smiled. "It wasn't your stuff, Doc."
"Do what?"
"It was mine. I jacked off into that sandwich bag just before I met you at the top of the slope that day." He raised an eyebrow. "All that stuff looks pretty much the same, you know!"
"You little shit! You conned me." Jim's color was reddening.
"Yeah, I'm afraid so," he answered. "But before you get too mad, let me make you an offer."
"What's that?"
"Wanta see what all the excitement is with the guys who think sex with a one-legger is rad? I turned eighteen about a week ago!"

1 comment:

  1. brilliant story, I have a bk just like this guys...