Date: Wed, 8 Aug 2007 18:17:39 -0500
From: J.J. <jjjanicki@gmail.com>
Subject: Getting Kicked Out of the House-Part 2

The following is a work of erotic fiction involving sex between two
underage teenage boys. If reading this is illegal in your present place
of residence, then perhaps it would a good idea if you were to exit
immediately. And if the subject matter is offensive to you, well, don't
read it then.


Now then. To briefly summarize, in my previous installment I sailed off
into a story in which I ended up running bare ass naked across a busy
Atlanta street only to be apprehended and turned over to my old man. So
that's where I pick things up.

Except I'm going to briefly summarize my homecoming as well, since it
really wasn't much fun. Yes, he took his belt to me but fortunately he
didn't have occasion to turn me around facing him. Good damn thing too,
as once again my stupid dick started acting up. But ANYway, after a
couple of weeks my hair had grown back. Well, I really didn't have all
that much to start with. And the rumor about how shaving makes your hair
grow faster seems to be just another one of those urban legends. A month
or so passed. I remained relatively inexperienced. And THEN...


               Getting Kicked Out of the House-Part 2
                       (Timothy Leary McViddy)

And then Timothy Leary McViddy came into my life. That boy was every bit
as weird as I was, but then his parents were pretty weird too.

The McViddys started attending our church. They were born-again hippies.
That's how my father referred to them. Which wasn't a negative comment on
his part, since after all, we had some born-again drunkards and
born-again womanizers... I mean we all were either sinners or had once
been sinners, so the only negative aspect was their former lifestyle, but
now that they were forgiven, he didn't hold it against them.

But Timothy was NOT born-again. So it didn't take long at all before we
became good friends.

From the start it was obvious that Timothy not only wasn't born-again, he
had no intention of BEING born-again. You could tell that much  by his
sullen expression the first time the McViddys visited our church. And of
course (said my father) if the boy was really serious about getting
right, he would get his hair cut. Why, he almost looked like a heathen
girl!

As a matter of fact, that was what first caught my attention; I was
trying to figure out if he WAS a girl. He would have made a really cute
girl; flat-chested, somewhat awkward looking and very skinny with his
hair braided in dreadlocks. I was pretty sure he was a boy though. Almost
had to be. He was wearing worn gray corduroy pants which he'd almost
outgrown. I glanced again at him out of the corner of my eye. Tight
fitting pants, too. No, that wasn't a girl. Sure did seem to be awfully
well endowed. Which was surprising because he was so frail looking. So of
course I was intrigued right then, but to my credit I only stole a couple
more sidelong glances at him for the remainder of the service. I sure
didn't want to scare them off after only one service.

That first Sunday my father invited the McViddys over for Sunday dinner I
was very nervous and at first Timothy was pretty disinterested, but soon
after he discovered I also dispised having to go to church all the time,
he was all wide eyed curiosity wondering what there was to do in Atlanta.
I was surprised. His life seemed much more interesting. Born in London.
Named after Dr. Timothy Leary, the high priest of LSD during the late
60s. Lived in London until he was seven, then they moved to northern
California where they were part of a commune. Then when he was eleven his
dad decided to move his family to Hawaii. On the big island. Very nearly
a tropical paradise with hardly anyone else around and more often than
not he didn't even have to bother with clothes! Nor did his parents, in
fact they had gone naked right often at that commune in California as
well. But his dad had recently had an acute religious experience while
under the influence of hallucinogens. Possibly mushrooms. Or maybe it was
jimson weed. But at any rate, he felt LED to Atlanta. Imagine that. And
so he was driving around, saw our church and he said, "This is the
place."

And so that night during Sunday evening evangelistic services I was very
happy as Timothy and I sat together in the back. For what it's worth, if
we had never been more than just friends I could've lived with it. I
could have lived with it for a long time.

Until they could afford something better, they were living in a run-down
residential motel on the wrong side of the tracks. Mr. McViddy had a job
at as a mechanic at a car dealership while Mrs. McViddy worked as a
waitress, both during the day. The first time I was over at his place we
mostly watched TV and played cards. The next day (a Thursday), I went
over to his place again. This time we played basketball for awhile. So
when we finished Timothy decided he needed to take a shower. I wanted to
follow him into the bathroom of course, but decided I'd best not. I had
to be cool about it. I guessed sooner or later I'd probably see him naked
if I didn't let on.

So I was watching TV trying not to think about it when he yelled out,
"Hey J.J., could you bring me the shampoo? It ought to be on the counter
by the sink." (The sink was just outside the bathroom.)

"Yeah, ok" I said reluctantly. Yeah right. You KNOW I did. Be still, my
beating heart!

But with a decent show of nonchalance I entered the bathroom and handed
him his shampoo. "Thanks" he said, "Why don't you stay in here and talk
to me?"

Duh... ok. Well, since he had his back to me that's what I noticed first.
Seems logical enough. He had a fairly average tight little butt. Well ok,
it was a really cute butt. Because it was HIS butt. I also noticed he
didn't have a tan line. Which verified that he had indeed not long before
run around naked. While I didn't mind, actually I have always thought
pale behinds in contrast to tan everywhere else to be extremely
seductive.

Gingerly I took a seat on the commode. "So I don't know, I mean what do
you want to talk about?" I asked as I studied the bathroom interior. It
was a sight. Two chipped metal pipes went from the floor to the ceiling.
Just above the commode several square feet of plaster had long since
disappeared leaving behind bare wooden slates covered with dirty wet
cobwebs. The ceiling was discolored and looked to be on the verge of
falling into the floor. A large yellowish-white tub took up most of the
floor. The bottom of the tub was black. The tub had no curtain. Above the
tub, the showerhead also appeared to be on the verge of falling out.
Well, you know, I wasn't going to sit there just staring at HIM.

"Oh, I don't know" he said over his shoulder, "Tell me how you can stand
having to go to that church all the time."

"It ain't easy" I answered. "I guess you know my old man is going to try
to convert you."

He turned to face me. "Convert me to what?" he asked as he scrubbed his
hair with his eyes squinched shut.

"Oh you know. Well, I guess you know. Like he'll ask you if you want to
get saved and all. Well, you know, like your parents... " and then I
trailed off lamely. I figured it was going to be big, but I had no IDEA
it was going to be THAT big. Big doesn't do justice to it, no, it was
HUGE! It had to be at LEAST five inches long. Limp! I am not making this
up! And the circumference of it was impressive as well. And of course his
balls were pretty big. But strangely enough he had no more pubic hair
than me. Just a little rectangular black bush.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked as he continued working the shampoo
into his hair. Thankfully his eyes remained tightly shut.

"Uh, what do I mean about what?" I had been distracted.

"I mean just what am I supposed to be saved FROM?" Satisfied that he had
thoroughly scrubbed his head, he let the shampoo set in and started
washing on his... his PENIS! WITHOUT TURNING HIS BACK!!!

"Oh shit, I don't know..." (In FACT, he was washing the head of his
penis.) "Shit. My folks don't think .." (Was he jerking off, or WHAT?)
"... I don't really know WHAT they think half the time." (It was
DEFINITELY starting to get hard!)

"Well, I sure don't know. I don't know what's wrong with my old man
either. I mean he's.. ah!.. on one weird trip and I'm... getting tired of
it... Oh yeah!.. You ever do that?"

While there is absolutely no way I could have been any harder, that did
give me a charge. And a little preliminary squirt. "Do what?" I asked.

"Toss yourself off, stupid. Do you ever do that?"

"Sometimes" I answered as noncommittally as was possible.

"Shit... You don't sound like you enjoy doing it very much."

"Oh hell. I do it enough. Don't worry, I enjoy it very much" I answered.
At that point he stopped soaping it and started rinsing his hair.
Meanwhile I could not help but notice that his penis had increased quite
considerably in length. Right at eight and a half inches. I'm serious. Of
course the circumference had also increased a bit. And it was bouncing
stiffly slightly above horizontal.

"My folks have been on a weird trip ever since I've known them" I added
ruefully as I attempted to change the subject.

"Well, if my folks don't get off of it, I might just take off." Then he
opened his eyes.

Quickly I glanced away from his erect penis. Flushing a little and with a
slight tremor, I asked, "Take off where?"

"Oh, I don't know. LA maybe. I've been there before. It's a cool place."
He was by then washing under his arms.

As earnestly as I could, I looked him in the eyes. "Well, how would you
eat? Where would you stay?"

"I'd get by. Maybe I'll sell drugs. Shit, maybe I'll just peddle my ass.
I'll get by somehow." He had moved down to his stomach. His penis bounced
and swayed stiffly and seductively in front of him as he washed himself.

I couldn't think of anything to say at that point. I wasn't even sure I
heard him right. He COULDN'T have just said what I THOUGHT he said, he
just COULDN'T HAVE. I looked down at the floor.

"You don't believe me?"

"Well, I really don't think you should run away" I said miserably.

"Oh, I'm not going to leave right away. I'll give it a month or so
anyway. My folks are always going off on weird trips. Usually they don't
last all that long though. Then they're off on something else."

I was still trying to collect my thoughts. Timothy turned the water off
and began drying himself. I was still mostly looking at the floor. Then
he asked, "You want to fool around some?" Just like that. He was almost
casual about it.

I really don't know what I thought right at that moment. It's hard to
sort out everything that was bouncing around inside my head. I know I
took seriously his talk of running away. That meant I wouldn't be seeing
him any more. Which made me feel very bad. I mean damn, I'd just met him.
And I wasn't sure what he meant by peddling his ass. Maybe he didn't
really mean it the way I thought he meant it. And what did he mean by
fooling around? Was he just talking about us tossing ourselves off? Or
was he talking about something else entirely? And if so, then what
exactly? Oh shit. Maybe he was putting me on. Or maybe he just wanted me
to give him a blow job. If that was it, how did he find out about me? Did
it even matter? See what I'm talking about? I was all mixed up. So not
even knowing what I was agreeing to, I stammered, "Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, let's see what it's looking like" said Timothy. He then knelt down
in front of me and unzipped my pants. Just like that. Then he felt around
for a second or so before asking, "You want to stand up?"

I stood up uncertainly. Very matter of factly, he pulled my pants and
underwear down and my penis popped up standing straight and tall. Not
nearly as tall as his, but nothing to be ashamed of.

"Not bad, J.J., not bad at all. I wish mine would stick up the way
your's does. Mine just sticks out in front of me." He pulled on it a
couple of times. I gasped involuntarily. Then calmly he asked me, "You
want me to blow you?"

Several weeks later, after being released from the cardiac unit of
intensive care...

Just kidding. "Uh, well, I'll do anything you do" I blurted out all in a
rush.

"Cool" said Timothy. "So go on and get undressed. I'll be on my bed. And
try to slow yourself down a little. The way you're going now, you won't
hold out a minute." Then as he walked out the door he added, "Shit, you
probably won't hold out very long anyway. Well, I'll do you twice then."

Well, when Timothy Leary McViddy actually put MY PENIS into his MOUTH, I
almost went off right then and there. I said "GOOO.. Hey, Timothy, wait
just a minute, ok?"

So he asked me, "Yeah? Something wrong?"

"No" I answered with feeling, "I just want you to straddle my face, ok?"

"Oh" he said knowingly. "Well, I hate to disappoint you, but sixty-nining
is not nearly as easy as you may have heard, it fact it can be rather
distracting, but under the circumstances, we'll give it a go." And so we
did.

Once I got somewhat used to it all, I discovered sixty-nining to be a bit
distracting at that, but on take one it hardly mattered since I came very
quickly indeed, as much from what I was doing to him as from what he was
doing to me. But he lasted for at least ten minutes. I was mostly working
on his velvety soft head, paying particular attention to his pee hole,
but was experimenting occasionally to see just how far down on him I
could go. Only it seemed my deep-throating technique needed more than
just a little fine-tuning. Of course I'd never had one that big in my
mouth before either. Really, I hadn't had that many PERIOD, but even so,
he said I did a good job. Well, I could TELL he was enjoying himself. And
I enjoyed myself as well.

In the next few weeks we did it ALL, we did it repeatedly and we didn't
do much of anything else. We were planning on running away before the end
of the summer. We were going to Belize. We would live in the jungle. And
naturally we would go naked. Shit, we wouldn't even HAVE any clothes. And
of course we would never have to worry about anybody calling us queers. I
mean Timothy came right out and SAID he was queer. Said he didn't want to
be anything else. But he didn't like being called names. (He had been in
the past.)

His parents had no idea he was gay, by the way.

"What would happen if they found out?" I wondered.

"I have no idea" he said. "Would you like to mention it to them and see
how they'd react?"

"Well, no. Tell me something. When did you figure out I was?"

"I sort of suspected it first time we visited your church because you
kept sneaking looks at me, and then when you were watching me in the
shower that day we first did it, I could almost FEEL you looking at it
even when I had my eyes shut. Then when I opened my eyes, I could see
right away that you had an erection, so I thought why not?"

I was to learn many things about him. For instance, he first had a girl
when he was NINE. I mean he stuck it in her and had an orgasm. She
seduced him and while he couldn't shoot off, he certainly could have an
orgasm and he sure did. And of COURSE it felt good.

He said his penis had always been above average, which I didn't find all
that difficult to believe. But he didn't reach puberty until just past
fourteen, which is sort of late. But of course that's about when I
started too.

He liked girls, but he liked boys more. His first homosexual experience
came while at that commune when he was ten. Well, he'd played around
every once in awhile since the age of six, but only on rare occasions and
always with people about his own age. But then when he was ten he was
sucked off for the first time by an older boy. And he said he rather
enjoyed that as well. Then only a few days later he; Timothy I mean;
managed to talk the older boy into fucking him. And he REALLY enjoyed
that.

At the time he first mentioned being backdoored I was a bit taken aback,
even if he had mentioned peddling his ass previously. Because ten seems
awfully young, so I asked, "Didn't it hurt?"

"Oh sure, it most definitely hurt at first, but it felt good too. You
want to give it a try?"

"You mean you want me to do it to you or do you want to do it to me?"

"You had better do me first. You see, until you can learn to relax you
may find it a bit painful. My tool is rather large, you know. And you
will probably bleed a bit afterwards. It usually happens the first time
or so. And after it's over, you may have an involuntary bowel movement.
It can happen with almost no warning. And really, no matter what, it's
going to be quite messy, afterwards. So I feel I should warn you. I found
it rather enjoyable in spite of the pain; AWFULLY so in fact; but if you
would rather not, then that's perfectly all right. But still, you really
should get behind me and give that end of it a go. Would you like to?"

So at that point I said, "You must think I've never had it up my ass
before."

"You HAVE?"

"Well, one time I sort of got raped. ...So I know what can happen all
right. 'Cause it did." It felt good to be able to discuss this with
someone, but then I noticed that he looked slightly disappointed. He
enjoyed being the most experienced, I think. Which he most certainly WAS.
And for sure, what had previously gone up my hole was no where NEAR that
big. And under the circumstances I guess that's a good thing.

ANYway, not being too awfully sure about EITHER end of it, but still
wondering what it might have been like for HIM, I asked, "Well, all that
stuff you said could happen? Did it happen to you?"

"Oh yes" he answered very promptly, "although my FIRST time wasn't with
Robert actually." (Robert being the older boy. He was seventeen.)

"Well, you said it was. So who DID stick it in first? I mean I wouldn't
know him anyway. What was it like? Were you really only ten?"

"Ahem" said Timothy very nearly. "Well you see, my parents at that time
basically believed if it felt good and didn't hurt anyone else or the
environment it was ok. Of course now I'm being told it was Satan who told
us that. I don't agree, but... Oh, perhaps I shouldn't tell you this. Do
you really want me to?"

"Well, if you don't MIND, yes, I would like very much to hear it."

"You'll be shocked I'm afraid."

"No I won't. Tell me."

"What's the weirdest thing you've ever done?"

"Aside from what's been going on for the past few days... I guess.. well,
sometimes I pull my pants down and paddle myself... Well, I don't do it
very often but... I don't know, I just do sometimes."

"Well, that IS somewhat strange I suppose. But not nearly as much as you
seem to imagine. But ok. Now first you must understand that there were
some awfully strange people at that commune. Very much so indeed. For
instance; not that this in any way has anything to do with what I am
about to admit to; but there was one gentleman who was forced to pay a
visit to a hospital emergency room with a zucchini lodged up his ass.
What I mean to say is that he had been poking himself with that thing and
I suppose he kept working it in deeper and deeper, you know, in a bit,
out a bit, until finally he pushed it ALL THE WAY in and then without
warning his hole closed. And it was stuck. The zucchini, I mean."

"Oh" I said.

"I have never fucked myself with a zucchini" he quickly continued, "but I
once did... ah... well, you see, at the commune whenever the weather was
permissible, it was quite all right not to bother with any sort of
clothing, in fact, it was rather expected. I liked to pretend I was a
naked savage. So once I was on a long hike by myself. Well, after awhile
I was joined by a German Shepard who belonged to... oh, I've forgotten
who he belonged to. I suppose he belonged to the entire commune.
ANYWAY... Oh shit. I can't tell you about it."

And at that point I lost it completely. I couldn't help it. It was awhile
before I could STOP laughing.

And that was the first time I saw him actually get embarrassed. It was a
struggle but finally I managed, "I'm not laughing at you. Well, I guess I
am too. But you were only TEN, shit-"

"Well fuck!" he blurted, "I just wanted the bastard to LICK my hole and
he DID... at first... but I guess he got horny and see, I was on my hands
and knees and by the time I figured out what that damn dog had in mind it
was too fucking late!"

I sobered up briefly. "Well, I still love you. I mean, what the hell, if
I'd thought of it when I was ten I might have gone for it too." (I was
just saying that to make him feel better though.)

"Yeah, well, it hurt."

I can imagine. And from what I've read in some sex fantasy books, I bet
it took awhile too. (I didn't mention the dog I once tried to get fired
up. I mean nothing came of it anyway, because the damn dog was trying to
bite me. So I forgot that idea in a HURRY.) (And that's probably yet
another reason why you should not do drugs.)

But in case you're still interested, when Timothy took me, it DID hurt.
To say the least. But it was a truly memorable event.

I was on my back with my knees about even with my face. After a good deal
of preliminary finger fucking and gentle lubbing, finally the moment of
truth arrived. "Now if it hurts too much, just let me know, OK?"

I shook my head yes.

"OK. Now I'm just going to ea-se it in a bit..

Well, you cannot EASE something that big in. "Ouch!" I said. While
involuntary, it certainly was heartfelt.

"You want me to pull it out?"

"No" I managed, "Just go slow, OK?"

Only as it turned out, going slow wasn't a real good idea either, not
when you feel like you're giving birth in reverse, it sure as hell isn't.
Right. I have no idea what it feels like to give birth. Except I really
think I DO. But after a particulary difficult period of labor, I've heard
it said that many mothers-to-be feel like saying, "Get that thing OUT of
me!" and that is EXACTLY what I felt like saying, but figuring it
couldn't POSSIBLY hurt any worse, instead I managed, "Just..shove it...
in all..the-"

And so he did. "Umpth!"

And then, "AEIIGH!!! OH SHIT!!!" ZING!!! BOING!

I'll translate that. Although "AEIIGH, OH SHIT" hardly needs any
translation beyond that it COULD hurt worse. But then (ZING) he hit my
button. THAT button. And yes, it felt like an electric shock. And then
(BOING) my dick, which had almost gone flat on me, wasn't anymore. Just
like that. It was downright amazing.

So at THAT point, while the pain certainly didn't go AWAY, it did fade
into the background. Jolt after jolt after JOLT... but not TOO many,
because all at once KABLEWEY. First couple of shots went completely OVER
my head into the floor behind me. What a mess! (We were doing it that
first time in the floor of the bathroom. On a large pasteboard box cut
out flat. And I was soon to find out what THAT was all about. That really
WAS a mess. But let's not dwell on that. Except to say that it was VERY
messy and I certainly was glad Timothy had the foresight to take some
precautions and in spite of everything, it was well worth it. So of
COURSE we did it again. Many times.

But aside from all that what was the weirdest? Well, a couple of times we
went shopping at the Goodwill store for old clothes. One time we
purchased a dress, a skirt, two slips, a lovely blouse, a training bra
and two pairs of panties. Then at Wal-Mart we picked up two pairs of
nylon hose. The kind you wear with a garter belt. And of course two
garter belts. We made LOVELY girls. Or at least cute. We put on lipstick
and everything. I wore the training bra, he went braless, but wore the
blouse. Then we tore our clothes off. RIPPED them off. Wrestling, you
know. It was a trip! So back to the Goodwill store we went again. And of
course we eventually ripped that clothing to shreds as well. Except the
garter belts and nylon hose. They were too expensive. And it was also a
trip to pretend you were trying to look up some girl's dress only to
suddenly discover the girl wasn't wearing any panties and also wasn't a
girl. And occasionally we ripped our regular underwear off of each other.
In fact, my mom was starting to wonder where all my underwear was going.

But sadly, all things that are really fun must eventually come to an end.
At least that's how it always seems to work out for me. Late one
afternoon Timothy was raping me. Pretending, you know. So picture if you
will the scene. We were in our garter belts and nylons. That's all. I was
on my back once again with my knees about even with my face. He was
poking me most vigorously. My legs were just waving around like I'd lost
control of them. Which I pretty much had. But then door opened. It was
someone who had a key! Like his father, for instance.

Well, his father let out a roar and bounded across the room in just about
one huge step. It was a very small room anyway. He then grabbed Timothy
by his neck, threw him to the floor and started screaming at him to get
his clothes on.

So of course I was looking frantically for my clothes as well. And I
couldn't find them. Where WERE THEY?

"And YOU, just get out! NOW!!" said he to me.

"I'm..I.. I'm looking for my clothes" I said quite reasonably. At least I
sure thought it was reasonable.

"I SAID...GET OUT!!!" he screamed, then he shoved or possibly hurled me
out the door. And then he slammed it. So of course I was upset. I was
scared to death wondering what was going to happen to Timothy. And I was
also naked except for my nylons and garter belt. And as I've already
mentioned, I was in a very bad neighborhood and they do not take kindly
to people dressing like that around there. Only maybe being martyred
wasn't a bad idea, I thought. I had to consider that. But before I
figured out what I was going to do, Mr. McViddy flung open the door again
and told me to get my little butt inside. So I did. It seemed best
because if nothing else, I could get killed along side Timothy.

"Sit down!" he said. Timothy was almost dressed by then. I could not help
but notice his discarded nylons and garter belt lying forlornly in the
corner as a reminder of our late great passion. But at least I didn't see
any blood. I sat down on the bed with my hands covering my midsection.

"Where are your clothes?" he demanded.

I wasn't sure.

Timothy found them for me. Silently I got dressed.

For the longest time nobody said anything at all, but finally Mr. McViddy
started in with the verbal abuse. To say the least, it was very severe.
And you will forgive me if I don't repeat his remarks. But at least he
didn't believe in physical abuse. He said he felt like it, but he wasn't
going to. So at least whatever happened to Timothy Leary McViddy, he
wasn't killed.

They moved back to California a few days later and I never heard from
Timothy again. But some day we'll meet again, I am sure of it.

But yes, Mr. McViddy did call my father and wonder if he could drop by
and pick me up. And he mentioned WHY he wanted me picked up. As a matter
of fact he was fairly explicit.

Now my father didn't have very much to say. Really, he didn't. Let's see,
he knocked on the door and said to me, "Let's go" and I suppose he
apologized to Mr. McViddy. Nothing was said on our way home. Not a single
word.

But when we pulled into our driveway he said, "Why don't you and I pay a
visit to your room? It seems to me like we need to have a little talk."
At that point he certainly seemed very anxious to get on with it, as we
walked to the house I could not help but notice that he'd already removed
his belt and was experimentally smacking his palm. I fully expected to
die. Well, it certainly seemed possible. Maybe he wouldn't MEAN to, but
he would anyway. It could happen.

So anyway, the two of us entered into my room. Behind me my father closed
the door. "Well, get your clothes off" he said.

My hands shaking, I pulled off my shirt, then with my back to him I
stepped out of my pants. I could not bring myself to look at his face. I
was pretty sure my hole was done twitching, but I had no underwear on. I
mean I'd put on my skimpy lace panties before leaving for Timothy's, but
he'd gone and ripped them to pieces. But I DID still have on the garter
belt and nylons. I never had a chance to get them off. I worried about
those things all during our trip home, because I had a feeling they'd
probably have a really bad effect on him.

Well, I guess my garter belt and sadly sagging nylons did indeed have an
effect on him, but it wasn't what I expected. He sighed audibly and
walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. "Just go ahead and
get dressed and take that queer stuff off. I'm washing my hands of you"
was what he said. I can only guess that the enormity of exactly what Mr.
McViddy meant when he said that he had caught his son and me committing
an act of sodomy at last fully sank in. Well, while Mr. McViddy WAS
fairly explicit, modesty or something prevented him from getting down and
dirty. So perhaps occasionally there is something to be said for that.

But it WASN'T quite the end of the story. As you might well have guessed
by now, considering the title of this masterpiece. Right. "Getting Kicked
Out of the House". Even if it wasn't quite what I had in mind.

To be continued.

Horrible? Bor-ring? Pretty good? I'd sort of prefer comments from "Pretty
good" on up, but whatever, I wouldn't mind too much.

jjjanicki@gmail.com