TRAVELER
Chapter 187

by CARL DICKSON

Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm
.

A tidy quote from chapter 137
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson—2007

Does your mother know you're reading this shit?

Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.

If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.

A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitioiusly,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2012. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.


You may download the CHEROKEE TONT for free at this link. Dowload it, install it, then enjoy seeing tfe TSAIAGI names in this story. This font is included in thfull version Send an e-mail for it .
    The buses were waiting in line as Travelaire Too© taxied to a stop inside the mountain fortress at Base A. Moving four hundred boys through a military base is never easy, but one located inside a mountain was especially difficult. The base commander had detailed a platoon of Airmen to act as herders between the airplane and the buses; we were able to off load the plane and board the buses without losing a single soul.
    Our trek home was via the wide new tunnel that Andy had hired Alonso to cut from the parking garage of BAW to the base. The tunnel is sixteen feet tall, tall enough for the buses, or regulation sized semi-trailer truck with height limits set at thirteen feet and six inches. It is wide enough for two large trucks to pass each other in opposite directions. I have no idea why Andy felt that such a large tunnel was necessary, but it is done.
    The entire trip underground is a little more than twelve miles long. Natural caverns were discovered along the way which aided in the handling of air circulation. No fuel burning vehicles are allowed in the tunnel, but all of the buses have electric motors that can make the trip on a single charge—with the air conditioners operating.
    Once in the parking garage under the east side of the school the boys can pass through to the lowest basement level of the dormitory for access to their sleeping areas or back to the left and into the tunnel that connects the school to my house and granite house.
    The buses were still rolling as the boys clamored to get off and go see. Boys lined the fence along the long driveway into the underground garage from the city street that runs along the south side of the school and on up to the houses. The north end of their playground was surrounded by a fifteen foot tall fence of the steel rods similar to the fence around BAW. The fence was draped on the inside with heavy tarps that prevented the boys' view of what may be inside the enclosure. What was inside was my latest gift to my babies and what I hoped would give them hours of enjoyment.
    I was not ready to reveal the area to the boys until the following day after church. I had arranged for a very special guest speaker, one that I could only hope would have an impact on the boys, now and in their future. Christian Hosoi literally changed the face of skateboarding. He quit school at twelve years old, with his parent's blessing, and set out to become the best skateboarder ever.
    He and Tony Hawk wrote the books on skateboarding, but Christian turned a deaf ear to everybody around him and listened only to the voices that spoke to him when he smoked crack. The man spent four years in prison, but he learned a lesson that the penal system did not teach. He learned what a friend he had in Jesus. He is now an associate preacher with a message that can touch a boy's heart and I was going to give him the chance to touch the four hundred hearts of my family

    Pastor Hosoi spoke a language that the boys could understand. Several of the older congregation were lost in the dialog, but overall it was a very successful Sabbath morning sermon. Hosni spoke of God's love and forgiveness for him after he had blown one of the most remarkable rocket rides to fame and fortune.
    He spoke of the love of a woman that stood beside him while he was locked away. He told of an industry that united in support, even after he had let them down. All of these acts were the result of the love that God had for him and that love was manifested in the lives of many people that Hosoi never knew before.
    He told us how God opened his eyes to the acceptance of others and gave him a desire to use his old life as an example of what not to do. It was a done fact before Pastor Hosoi stood to speak on the first Sabbath after our return to Tucson after our summer of travel and adventure; he was going to have to give the boys a demonstration of his skating abilities. I am pleased that the man had enough of the boy in him to appreciate what my boys were after. A skateboarding pastor is a rarity.
    At last the boys were able to enter the fenced in area of their playground. When the tarps parted their eyes met an extra large skate park with four half pipes, plenty of rails and curbs for grinding, and a large cemented depression that looked like an old backyard swimming pool of Olympic proportions. Easy grade ramps led to the top of the half pipes for easy access by even the most novice skaters in the family.
    Access to the skate park area is by way of a fingerprint reader only. The boys will be able to play in peace and safety with only the other students and family members, or their invited guests, being allowed inside to join them. I have placed disclaimers all about the park informing any guests that we are not responsible for any accidents or injuries. Bull tells me that it won't hold up in a court of law, but it might make a kid and his parents think twice before trying to get rich from a spill or fall.

    Labor day fell on Monday the first of September with school starting the following morning. The boys spent Sunday and Monday preparing their housing areas and minds for another year heavy into the books. I spent a lazy day sleeping in on Sunday morning. At least I had planned to sleep in, Cullen had another idea. A little past seven my bedroom door opened and two cute faces peered inside.
    I smiled at my nephew and he acted like a little boy, not the seventeen year old King of his own country. He dashed across the room and climbed up in my bed to cuddle up next to me. Jimmy slipped in next to Cory. Cory, ever the diplomat, had Jimmy move over and get between himself and me. I love Cory with all of my heart and I know that he loves me, he also loves Jimmy. He was the one that brought Jimmy to me when the family stayed in Andy's large house at Christmas time a few months back. Gee, where has the time gone? It is September already and it seems like just yesterday that we played in the deep snow and enjoyed peace and relaxation. That is something that has become scarce in the house of happy fairies.
    Cullen was melancholy as he wrapped himself about me. He was not after sex, he was looking for comfort for his troubled mind. "Uncy, I'm a senior now, do I get a senior discount when we go out to eat?"
    "Your royal hinney can't go anywhere that you aren't recognized and overcharged. You are a VIP so you are public domain. By that I mean that the world thinks that you belong to them and that they can do to you and with you as they please.
    "Remember when you made Turner your press agent. We copyrighted and registered all images of you as literary content. That protects you from having your picture published and deters the paparazzi, but there is always the fool hardy person that wants to take your picture.
    "I'm afraid that most restaurants that we go to don't like the public clamor around you so they won't give you a discount, but they will expect to be paid extra for allowing your personage to grace their hovel."
    "That's not fair, uncy." I know how he gets when he is unsure of anything, he makes light of the situation and jokes around. He had something on his mind and I was hindering him from getting it off of his chest.
    "You know that I love you more than anything in the world. Mum is mum and da is da, but uncy you…you are so very special to me. I know that you love me as much as you love Cory, but in a sorta different way. I mean…well the sex that we have is great and I know that when you make sex on a guy it is always the same and they all feel what I feel. But sex is not all that you are.
    "You are a loving and caring person that only wants to see everyone grow up to be the very best that they can be. You gently guide, you never push. That makes you unique, uncy. The way I see it no one ever knows what you are doing. They just go in the direction that you have indicated, without question.
    "Uncy, I see the guys growing up and becoming men that can be powerful. I believe that everyone that has been with you for three years or more can be leaders of the world."
    "Like you, my little one? You had it in you before you came to me. You were a boy with a boy's dreams, but your mother had conditioned you to be a king. I have done nothing, but try to be an steady model of the way that I feel that a boy should grow. I sometimes regret the sex part. I only pray that no boy feels like I have molested him. One never knows the future.
    "I mean, look at the number of men that are coming forth around the world to tell how they were molested as boys. They were molested by people in positions of trust. I have such a position with all of the boys in my charge. I don't have the right to use them sexually."
    "But you do, uncy. You have never used any of us. I don't know of a single boy that has not come to you for sex. Sure, in the beginning they might be scared of this big bad boy here, 'hello mighty Chris, mmm that tastes good.' No, I am not here for sex, but I do love your cock. I love it best up in me, but not tonight. There is something else.
    "What I am trying to say is that a boy might be scared when he sees your monster, but you don't go raping him, you wait until he is ready to accept you. They come to you and you show them love."
    "You say that there is something else?"
    "Not right now, please. Let me lay here and feel your strength fill me up." He wiggled closer to me and got himself so close that our sweat was mixing into each other's body

    I was awakened by his sniffles about two hours later. I opened my eyes and looked into his tear filled and terror filled face. I knew that there was something very wrong, but I had to bide my time and let him tell me when he was ready.
    We spent the night in bed with none of the four of us having any thoughts of sex. It was a night of bonding and a night filled with familia love. I wrapped an arm around Jimmy and drew him close to me and felt that he was flaccid, but he desired the closeness of our bonding.
    I have said it before, but it bears repeating. Jimmy and Chrisy rate right up there with Cory, Cullen and my sons. I feel no distinction in my love for any of the six of them. RD and Rod are so much intertwined in my life and now I am beginning to bond with my baby boy, Cory Stevens, as he becomes more cognizant. He is only is only eighteen months old now, but he is walking and babbling like a baby. He doesn't understand what he is told. At his age he only responds to sounds, not words so much.
    He is storing everything that he hears, sees, and touches so that when his brain develops more he will be able to have those memories to build upon. It is frustrating to raise a baby of that age sometimes because they seem to want to get into everything. That is just the way they learn and his mother and I try to allow him to touch and see anything that interests him. Of course we have the cabinets locked up and we hope that we don't inadvertently leave anything dangerous within his grasp. I would die were my baby to be hurt by my carelessness

    I planned to get the boys settled in and get them started in school before I flew home to retrieve the women. I wanted to go get them. They are capable of getting on the airplane and flying home to me without my watchful gaze. I am told that I hover too much. I try not too.
    I do hover over the recent additions to the family. We had several new students that weren't sure how things were going to go for them, but the older family of boys is adept at making a new boy feel at ease and helping him into steady routine.
    Our summer was finished and the boys were actually ready to relax in school for awhile. The contractors had come up with a novel approach to building the new gymnasium. The old building was enclosed on three sides with new granite walls, thirty feet tall. When the campus was cleared of students in May the old gym and swimming pool disappeared forever to give way to a larger classroom building with direct access to the dormitory.
    The new gymnasium was set to the far southeast corner of the campus with direct access to the street for visiting teams and their spectators. The gym has seating for one thousand spectators, five hundred to both the east and west sides. A new and larger swimming pool was squeezed in between the classroom building and the new gym. Of course there were diving boards and platforms ranging to thirty feet, with a cable lift for our champion diver to soar to his heart's delight.
    The underground bus garage filled the area under the new classroom building and there was stairway access for the student body to board the buses inside of the garage. I liked the added security that offered to my boys. We also moved the parking for the faculty to the underground garage. I allowed a little infringement into the boys' play park for a wider driveway and off street parking for visitors. The parking between the church and the school was eliminated to allow for a full two hundred and fifty meter oval track around the football-soccer field.
    To the immediate west of the church property was an old house that had long ago been the center of a ranch and pasture for the livestock that roamed the mountainside in the early part of the twentieth century. The livestock had moved on and the land had been broken up into large multi-acre sized lots by the 1940s. Encroachment by the city had taken the remainder of the land until only the house and six acres remained. Through the church board I made an offer to the heirs of the family farmers to purchase the land for use as parking for the growing congregation.
    Across the back of that property sit two hundred new individual, twenty foot wide garage units. Each unit is wide enough for a car and a boy toy. Many of the older boys have purchased boats, but the big item that they have is jet skis. Ever since our stop over at Andy's house on the lake in Eufaula, Oklahoma they have wanted the speedy toys. It is a two hour drive, at best, to a body of water large enough to truly enjoy the water craft, but the boys have the money and the time.
    Some of the boys have their own ATVs, some have both an ATV and a jet ski. Riding space for the ATVs is getting scarce around Tucson with the dust restrictions and public land use ordinances. With special permission granted by the city and county the boys have the large leeching basin north of the school and their playground to ride in. Nearly all of the boys have bicycles and many of them are very expensive models. Clutter around the two houses and the dorm with the bikes was overwhelming. With the garage complex there is plenty of storage area for all of the current boy toys.
    We were really packing buildings into every inch of the property. What we didn't have room for was a stadium so all of our football and baseball games would have to be played at other schools around the area. That really didn't bother me, I am not comfortable having outsiders around the campus, for any reason. I know from my own youth that a ball game is a great time to get into a little fun, especially with a few horny boys that like it under the bleachers. There is no place for frisky boys to gather inside the gym at BAW, the locker rooms are under the seating areas

    A lot of bad blood between me, as the head of BAW, and the local police departments was made good after Captain Shawn and I stood before several different groups of peace officers. I had asked Shawn in the past to help me to keep FI agents as the only security for our school functions. I had King Cullen beside me as we faced the officers and explained that the boy was a student at the school. We had done whatever it took to protect him and we did not want to bring in any outsiders. The officers understood our logic. I offered to allow them to provide security the following year as off duty officers. I explained that Cullen would be graduating and leaving the school after the current school year and our concerns would no longer be valid. That smoothed a lot of ruffled feathers

    Hurricane Ike was bearing down on the Texas coast with a vengeance. The fŗĩęñďş Çłųß plane was provisioned for the task and deployed to a standby position in the south of Texas to await the storm's wrath. The destruction was total. The hurricane came ashore as a category five storm and wiped out many entire neighborhoods along the coast. Power was out for several weeks and water was a major need.
    Few people had anyplace to prepare food and no place to lay their heads at night. Our generators were kept busy day and night providing electricity to as many shelters as we could supply. Blankets and food were needed and the airplane proved its worth once again in a time of disaster

    Cullen James made his noisy entrance to the world at two forty seven on the morning of September 23. Cory was reduced to a quivering bundle of nerves as Awinita—aW/t—Fawn waited until late afternoon to prove her gender by being fashionably late. With our wives resting quietly in the hospital beds Cory and I went to the country club for a shave, steam bath, and massage. A new baby takes a lot out of a man.

    Alice Robertson and Rick Carlson had been busy over the summer. Rick's warehouse was the temporary home to fifty street boys wanting a better life. I approached the new bunch differently than I had ever approached any group before. Rick and Alice had both told me a tale and I had to hear the whole story of what some of those boys had to tell. It was plain that I was not going to be able to waltz in and offer those boys a bed and a classroom, I was going to have to go on the street and find out for myself what was going on. I didn't have the time to grow a beard and take on the scruffy look that Rick had cultured as he set out to save young Terry, but Rick had another idea.
    Sydney Roberts is as good as a teacher as he is as an actor. I spent two weeks with him as I pissed in an old pair of khaki trousers several times each day. Cory rolled on his sides as he watched me try to master a tick to the left side of my face as I tried to keep my eyelid rolled back. Believe what I say when I tell you that the air is cold on the underside of an eyelid. Rolling it back is difficult, keeping it rolled back is misery.
    My dentist strongly advised against the discoloring of my teeth. He sighed and did as I asked after I explained what I was about to do. I wanted to grab him up and drag him off to spend a night or two on the street with me when he made a statement reminiscent of Rick's barber. "Surely we don't have problems with homeless children in our town. I suppose you know what you are doing, but I think that it is a waste of time."
    He had been my dentist since my youth. I have never needed any service from him other than to check me over twice a year and provide me with a thorough cleaning and polish to keep my smile bright. Now I had asked him to yellow my teeth and darken them around the gums so that they looked as if they were decaying in my mouth

    Terry and Warren are well known, and respected as members of the fraternity of street kids. They dressed themselves in clothing from some of the city's thrift shops and went unwashed for several days before dragging a wack to their digs.
    Many of the street kids know that Terry had bent over before Rick each morning in the alley while in their plain view. It was for that very reason that I had asked him to help me with a very important mission to bring in more boys. Most of the new bunch of boys were up from the south side—the mostly Hispanic part of town. Terry had to establish himself to the new boys as an eager bottom for the well endowed in order to have a reason for having a wack sleep in the warehouse with him. From what Alice and Rick had learned the boys had come from conditions not unlike Seigy's operation. The difference was that they had come from just south of the border of my own state and country.
    Warren led me into the warehouse where he was instantly set upon for having me with him. I found myself surrounded by boys no more than fifteen years old. Tough talking, tough acting, and tough smelling. With the exception of two blond boys, I found myself being circled by young Hispanic thugs with their mixed language of Mexicano and Mestizos—Mexican Indian. I had mastered Sid's drool routine over his other teachings. I let my head roll from side to side and focused on the ceiling as the drool ran down my chin. I hated the game that I was playing. If I was going to help those boys, and others like them, I wanted to hear for myself what I had been told.
    Terry burst through the door and got up into Warren's face. "Leave him, he is mine, ya hear?"
    Warren shoved Terry to his ass, "He's your bang. He ganked a pint and I brought him here, away from the pigs." Warren reached into my pocket and withdrew a small bottle of bourbon whiskey and passed it across. Terry twisted the top and took a long draught.
    "Gimme it. I wuz wit him so it's mine." Terry tossed the bottle and Warren finished off the last of the weak tea inside. To hide his non-whiskey breath he turned to me and deep kissed me. "Reeking, he needs a wash up, bad. Ya gonna bang or can I go?" Warren asked.
    "Let's wash him." The two boys made a show of removing my clothing and stroking my cock. "I'd just as soon off him if he didn't tickle me deep." Terry was rubbing my piss stinking cock on his soft cheek.
    "Fuck, you'd bang a German Shepard. You got a itch like no other." Warren had his hand around my cock and I could feel his hot breath on my glans. The faggots were enjoying themselves, I was glad for that part. "I wanna bang. Ter, can I? Huh, can I?"
    "Sure. He got enough for boatus." The boys pulled me to the shower and cleaned my body. I was glad to smell decent again. I was taken to a corner where a tall stack of furniture pads lay on the floor and placed on my back on top of the pile. Both boys moved to me and stiffened me in front of our audience then Warren crouched over me. Terry held me up and pointed me at the eager hole which slowly engulfed my length fully inside.
    "Fuck, he's fine. I see what you said bout enough. Feed me, please." I was still rolling my staring eyes into space and my view was perfect as Terry spread his legs over me and moved forward for Warren to swallow all of his raging member. Warren bounced himself to orgasm and quickly moved forward to feed me his hot protein. I threw my arms about his firm body and suckled every morsel of his essence.
    "The dude loves batter. You all can do him in da mouth. His butt is mine." Terry faced the boys. I took ten horny teen boys in quick succession before one boy by the name of Chico swallowed me.
    "Damn, homey, you slide that good. Don't know you is crunk."
    Warren and Terry lay alongside of me as they directed the boys to kick it and talk about Spike. I was anxious to meet the boy and I was eager to meet Mom. The two were south side legends in a town where I had lived all of my life, yet I never knew of them

    There was one area of town that was as foreign to me as the night time streets of a European city. I was wary as I walked through the barrios of the largely Hispanic segment of town south of the downtown district. I am never actually alone with Andy listening to everything around me through my new throat microphone, but I had no physical presence that I could reach out and touch.
    Cory and I had almost yelled at one another. He did not want me to go alone and I was not about to drag him into harm's way. I am a highly trained officer of the law, aren't I? Well, I have spent almost two whole weeks in training with members of our local S.W.A.T. team and there were FBI agents attending that class as well. I know how to get out of a wet tissue paper bag. If it gets too tough for me I know that I can piss my pants and the bag will fall apart. I only hope that pissing my pants will keep some street punk from offing me for intruding on his territory.
    I sit and visit with my boys. I let them talk, I learn. A lesson that my own father taught me at a very young age is that the ears are tied directly to the mouth and that the brain is located at the conjunction point. It was pointed out to me that the brain turns the ears off when the mouth is working and thus the information highway is closed down. In order to hear what someone is saying the mouth should be silent. My father also pointed out that hearing does not mean listening. I hear noises all day but I seldom ever listen to them. If a boy is talking to me then I owe it to him to listen to what he says.
    I felt confident in being armed with what I had listened to several of the street boys tell me. A key portion to what they had to say caused me to need to make my first exploratory trip into a dangerous land by myself. Every boy that talked to me stressed that alone a person stood a better chance at survival. If there were two or more in hostile territory a fight could almost be guaranteed. The boy that I sought to encounter would fight first then talk to any survivors.
    I relented to Andy monitoring my progress with Cory listening in as well. I only asked that they keep their mouths shut so that I could hear some street thug sneaking up on my back. I told my friends that one peep from them and I would turn my earbud off and two peeps would find themselves on radio silence.
    I had washed my khaki trousers and put on a decent shirt. I crossed the buttons so that it gave me the appearance of the wack that I was pretending to be. I stood tall and walked with the purposeful gait that I thought that a person with a troubled mind would walk. I thought that should I encounter someone that I could pull off the blank stare into nowhere and roll my head from side to side, that should be convincing.

Spike, Mikie, and Marion characters are the property of hugsterbear@hotmail.com in his story Spike Needs You and used with his permission.

    I walked along the lonely stretch of fourth Boulevard from the center of town to the south side, through some of the roughest neighborhoods I had ever seen. I have driven through the area for most of my life and one could only speculate as to the types of activities one would find there. The new students had educated me to what was there, I was about to see it first hand.
    Once underway I had my doubts about walking through the area, but it was well lighted. Since it was Friday night I hoped that I might see some hustlers out looking for a trick. My sources assured me that rent boys habituated the area.
    I was about to cross the final intersection when a noise caught my attention. It sounded as if someone was where they should not have been and had gotten caught at it. I looked down an alleyway and saw three larger boys punching and kicking a smaller boy who was crying out in sheer panic and pain.
    "Pleeeease, don't hurt me…I won't come back here again…"
    The three boys continued to kick and scream at the smaller boy on the ground.
    "Don't come back here Mericon (street slang for queer) or we kill you next time homie…you get it albondiga (literally-meatball; street slang for faggot) The black kid was nasty as he made sure that the boy was sorry that he had ventured into their territory. "The next time you come back on our turf faggot you can be more sorry than you can eva believe…got it dulce?" (literally-piece of candy)
    The three of them yelled vulgarities and spit on the poor boy as he cried. He was curled up in a fetal position not moving, obviously hurt.
    "Hey dip shits…let him the fuck alone." A strong voice yelled out and slowly came into sight from the shadows.
    "Yeah…you some fag lova or whaaa? Come closer homie and we give you same ting we give lil fagboy." The fat bully yelled as he kicked the boy again
    "Leave him be…you kick or touch him again and I'll fuck you with your own leg and you will see who the home boy is…essé…now get away from him."
    The boy on the ground looked up and whimpered as he tried to focus on his savior. He looked harder and squinted. His blood streaked face was bruised and swollen, his eye was swelled shut. I was sure that the one I sought had been the last to arrive. I wanted to help, but I had worked too long to find myself where I was. I had to bide my time as I hugged the shadows of my surroundings.
    There he was…in the dim lights. The figure looked like a scene out of a movie as he moved up the alleyway outlined by the lights at the far end. As the newcomer walked closer the three thugs looked him over and began to taunt at him. "Oh shit you ain' nithin but a chulo,(sweet, good looking, dandy)" the smallest bully exclaimed as he flipped a butterfly knife menacingly. He mumbled in a barely audible voice, "But damn are you ever good looking as hell…dammn…what a body."
<     "You all right kid?" the mystery person asked rather harshly.
    Mikie looked up to wipe his face with his bloody hand. He shook his head and let out a muffled, "Uhhhh huhhhhh I guess." Suddenly a foot connected with his side and he slumped over crying in agony, again.
    "Look mutha fuckers…I said to let the kid be, now get the fuck outta here or you are dead meat. Leave!"
    "Okay purdy boy… first we mess up dat face you got too." They circled the intruder and balled their fists in a threatening manner as they walked warily forward. Spike stood no more than five foot four inches tall, with a slim, but well-built, body. He wore his long hair tied back under a black beanie with some sort of logo that I could not make out in the dark. He had a wide dog collar with extra long spikes around his slender neck. His well chiseled, bare chest was just visible in the dim light.
    The leader of the three spoke and laughed, "Mire los hes de los individuos. Consiguió un collar del perrito apenas como un animal doméstico. Deja para demostrémolo que sea jefe." (look guys he's got a doggie collar on just like a pet. Let's show him who's boss)
    Like an animal pack sure of their prey the bullies started to move in on the new boy. Spike stood to his full five foot four inch height as he waited until they were all in striking distance. Then he sprang like a coiled cat. He flung his body high into the air and sent a solid kick to the side of the tall black boy's head. The leader's head snapped to the side slinging spittle and blood in long stream as his body reeled backwards.
    Spike's momentum sent him into a somersault over the head of the six foot tall boy that landed him in a crouched position, ready to strike again. Legs spread wide and one hand flat against the ground he looked like an animal on the offensive. His eyes surveyed the other two before he quickly dropped flat to the ground as they ran directly into each other over the top of where Spike had been. With his left hand still flat on the pavement Spike flung his body into a one armed hand stand. His right foot swept the leg of the smallest boy that the others were calling Franco, sending the butterfly knife careening into the nighttime shadows. Franco went down, he pulled his knee to his chest and screamed in pain.
    Spike launched his body upright then thrust his knuckled fist into the large Hispanic boy's chest. Angel had the wind driven completely from his very fat body. Gasping for breath he began to curse in Spanish. Spike spun on his heel as Angel lunged at him. The flat of his foot connected to the fat boy's knee and it was over. Angel groaned as he rolled about holding his leg. All three were down and all that was heard in the still night was the moans and groans of the bullies. They were out of commission that fast.
    Spike looked around to survey the damage that he had wrought. He was well versed in the martial arts, he knew exactly how to protect himself and incapacitate his foe. He left them able to walk away with no permanent damage to anything other than their pride. I was amazed at the speed and accuracy with which the smallish boy had taken out the attackers.
    With a quick look around Spike walked over to the hurt boy and tried to comfort him. "Dude…you alright? Gimme your hand." Spike helped the hurt boy up and led him over to a bench at a nearby bus stop. Just as suddenly as he showed kindness and caring he snapped back into the tough street kid that he was. "What the fuck are you doin out here this late by yourself?"
    Mikie looked up at the tough kid in fear. Shaking he said, "Ugh…I was out needing to make some money. You ain't gonna hurt me too are you?" He reached into his pocket and looked back at the three hoods shakily walking the other way. He spoke softly. "I…I uh, got some money…if you just please don't hurt me no more…please."
    Spike looked at the frightened kid, almost in frustration he pushed the hand back into the kid's pocket. "Man I don't want your fucking money and next time go hustling with a friend or at least go down by the Federal building or the bus station, and stay in the light. And for cripes sake, don't go off with no one you don't know or you can get your sweet ass killed…got it?"
    Mikie was still shaking as he looked at the stunningly good looking young vagabond and spoke softly, "Yeah, thanks."
    Spike took on a concerned look again, "You live round here kid?"
    "Mikie!!"
    "What?" Spike popped back.
    "Mikie, names Mikie!" He got louder.
    "Ok, live around here Miii-kie?"
    Mikie spoke back snottily now, "What's it to you?"
    Spike was angry now. "Fuck you…nothing…just fuck Y O U!" He started walking off.
    "SPIKE…Spike…is that your name? Wait!" Mikie insisted.
    Spike turned and looked at the shivering boy sitting with his hands between his legs like a drenched puppy. "I'm sorry man, I'm just scared…okay?"
    Spike thought for a second and walked back to the boy. "What?"
    Mikie said, "I live in The Glens."
    "Yeah and I'm the freaking Pope." He got up and started to walk away again thinking the boy was lying.
    Mikie spoke again, "I…I do really…by the country club on Lone Palm lane."
    Spike turned and looked at the boy…his young face was in agony from the beating he had taken.
    "My ole man is greens keeper, we lives in them partments by the golf course…really." He seemed to be apologizing.
    "Then what the fuck're you hustling this late?"
    Mikie grunted and shifted his weight and started to explain, "Well my folks started arguing cause the ole man's drunk and he started hitting me and that woman and all…I just hada get away from itl…I'm so sicka da freaking fighting."
    "Well…you need to get cleaned up and maybe get something to eat…are you hungry?" Spike asked more softly than before.
    Mikie responded by shaking his blood covered blond hair, "Yeah but where can I go looking like this?"
    Spike grabbed the boys arm and Mikie jumped. "Chill out dude and come with me. I ain't gonna hurt you. Mom'll take of you…come on."
    "OK…okay, but the name's Mikie, not dude. So where's your mom?" I slipped deeper into the shadows that had hidden me. Mikie is a bold, if not stupid, little man. Spike was the one that interested me the most. Mikie may be suffering some abuse at home and I can help him with that, but there is a story in the street tough named Spike and I was bound to learn the truth of it.
    Mikie got up and I heard Spike tell him, "At Myers…that is where she is."
    Myers is a diner where all the late night party boys and street hustlers gather after the older students and barroom crowd goes home to bed. I followed the boys as they walked towards the brightly lit café two blocks down the street.
    I hung back to watch the boys enter the diner. I stepped inside in time to hear Spike say, "Tell Marion there is a problem and Spike needs help."
    I walked over to a seat at the vacant lunch counter as I watched the waitress walk to the back.
    Spike turned away and told Mikie, "Mom will help you and get you what you need…and don't be afraid. Okay dude?"
    Mikie had the first opportunity to thank his rescuer. "Okay Spike, thanks for helping me and the name is…"
    "Yeah, yeah, I know, MIKIE! Sorry." Spike shot back. "No biggie." The tough boy left. I watched a black haired lady approach the blond boy and feel of his face then look out the door and down the street at Spike.
    Mom took the boy's face in her hands. "Baby…what happened to you precious?"
    Mikie told her what had happened and he told her, "If it hadn't been for your son…" He turned as if to look at Spike, but he was gone. Mikie started to panic."Where'd he go…your son…"
    Marion turned him back around. Baby, I'm not his mother. You did something no one has done in a long, long time…you got Jamie to come inside and ask for help."
    "You mean Spike's name is Jamie?" Mikie asked shaking.
    "Yes honey, that's Spike, and he is always there to help others, but he refuses to take help from anyone." Mikie was confused, "But why…what does he need…where does he live?"
    "Come with me honey, lets get you cleaned up and Mom will explain it to you. I is Mom to all these street boys. Jamie thinks you need help or he wouldn't have brought you here." They walked to the back and she began to clean him up

    I spotted Spike as he looked through the window of the large dining room where mom was leading Mikie. I slipped out in time to catch the boy as he walked away and hurried up the street. Quietly I followed him as he cut around a corner and headed to the back of the diner. With a quick look around he walked up to a dumpster and opened the lid. He reached in and took out a styrofoam carry out tray then he hurried away.
    I had to know what he was doing. I hoped that the container was not filled with drugs. I followed him further down the street to a closed restaurant that leaves their steel chairs and tables chained together in the outdoor dining area. I watched as he sat down and opened the tray and began to eat as if he hadn't eaten in days. I realized that he must be getting food from the waitresses at Myers, maybe mom? But why didn't he go in and eat at the tables? He adjusted his spiked collar and kept eating. The collar reminded me of Bryan. My body shuddered as the thought entered my mind that he might be in the same sort of situation as my boy.
    After he finished he put the tray down and leaned his chair back against the wall and took out a cigarette. He looked almost irresistible as he inhaled the cigarette. Somehow the boy looked mature, far beyond his apparent years. With one arm over the back of his chair he looked around and spotted me leaning against the wrought iron fence. He jumped up and got into a defensive stance. "What the fuck are you looking at? Whatta you want mother fucker?"
    Not wanting to cause undue alarm I spoke quickly. "I am sorry to intrude…my name is Chris I saw what you did for that small boy back there, and I wanted to make sure that you are all right."
    "Yeah, yeah…I'm fine. So now you got it!" Spike snarled back.
    "Whaooooo, why so hostile?" I inquired.
    "Man, fuck off and leave me the hell alone." Spike snarled back at me.
    I watched as Spike adjusted his collar and started to walk away. He fished for his smokes and found the pack empty. He tossed the wrapper and continued on. I don't like for anyone to smoke, but I needed something, anything to use as an excuse to talk a little longer. "Wait!" I called as he spryly sprung to the top of the spiky fence. He turned and perched himself on the narrow bar, his ass hovering inches above the sharpened spikes. He looked at me once more in disgust as if I was bothering him.
    "I just wanted to thank you for helping that boy back there, and I am sure that he thanks you too. You know you just might have saved his life?" I spoke softly as I tried not to frighten him anymore than he was. I placed a twenty dollar bill on a table near me then showed my moves as I sprung toward a table and placed my left toe on the edge. I took the six foot tall fence in a single somersault as I twisted my body in mid-air so that I was turned back to watch the boy smile before he ran for the money then made his own leap into the darkness of the night.
    "Yeah might've…but what life's he got now that I saved it for him? Maybe if he's lucky he can get fucked up like me and get his own collar…now fuck off." He called back as he disappeared into the darkness.
    I watched a beautiful boy that carried himself well. He walked like a winner. He acted as if he had nothing in the world to live for; and he acted like he cared about living it even less. I know enough that if I were to follow him then I would frighten him away. I know when a boy needs help, but the street tough wanted to stand on his own. I needed to learn more about him. I walked back up Fourth Blvd to Myers Diner and walked in to take a seat

    The waitress took my order for coffee. I asked if I could speak to the dark haired lady that was up front earlier?
    "That'd be Marion, sure I will get her." The waitress answered as she smiled at me.
    Shortly she returned with the steaming coffee. "Marion will be right out…she's just finishing in the back. Little trouble, as always in here." I just nodded.
    Mom walked out accompanied by Mikie. "You okay sport?" I inquired.
    Mikie stood dead in his tracks and looked stunned that I had said anything to him. Mom kept her hands on his shoulders. "Do you know Mikie?"
    I smiled and extended my hand. "Chris Dickson, no, I don't know Mikie. I just spoke with Spike as he ate his diner that was left for him." I winked at Mom.
    Mikie looked fervently around searching outside for his rescuer. "YOU know Spike? Is he here? Is he coming in?" Mikie kept searching outside as he asked the questions.
    Mom grasped his shoulders. "Honey, no…Jamie is not coming in."
    "But why not…how do you know?" Mikie blurted out.
    "Mikie…trust me…Mom knows. He's not coming in. Now sit with Chris and have something to eat and rest till you feel better. Mom will bring you something to eat so you can warm up. Could I bring you something Chris?"
    "No thank you. I have coffee, but I would like to speak with you if you have some free time." Mom looked me over. I was dressed in rags, but her face seemed to soften.
    A broad smile filled her aging face. "Chris Dickson," she said softly. "By all means. You two talk and get acquainted and I'll be right out," Mom said with a gracious smile.
    "Well Mikie, are you feeling alright?" He nodded at me. "You should be glad Spike came along when he did." I said to start our conversation.
    "Yeah, on both counts. You saw what happened? How long you dere watchin them assholes?"
    "Long enough and, yes I saw." Suddenly Mikie perked up, "Weren't he great? He really kicked some butt, and he didn't take one hit. How kewl."
    "Yeah cool. So you don't know him?"
    "Nope, he just kinda came out of a shadow and started kicking major butt. He left 'em crawling away, damn kewl if you ask me." Mikie was proud. The pretty little kid then lit up a cigarette and leaned back in his booth.
    "Well, what were you doing out there alone this late anyway?" I wanted to have him tell me what he had told Spike.
    Mikie thought about it then looked alarmed. "Uhhhh…You a cop?"
    "No, not that kind of a cop. Do I look like cop?"
    "Dunno. You lookin for trade?"
    "I have something to trade…what were you trading?"
    "Whaaaat?"
    "What do you have to trade and what were you wanting to trade it for?"
    Mikie was shocked at my questions. He leaned across the table to draw close. He gestured with his fingers on his chest and said, "Meeee…my dick for money. Get it?"
    "I'll bet that it is a cute dick. How much dick did you have to trade for that beating?"
    "Very funny smart ass." Mikie snottily responded and sat back in his seat. "Verrrry funnny."
    "I'm sorry kid that wasn't fair."
    He responded back again. "Names Mikie…Mikie…not kid!"
    "Im sorry. It seems as if we are not together. We're getting off on the wrong foot"
    Mikie sat back with his arms folded and snarled at me. He squinted his eyes to look closely. "Oh, so now we are together are we? Are you gay or what?"
    "Well, frankly Mikie, yes I am gay, but I really didn't mean to assert that you and I are together."
    "Well, what are ya saying? You too good for me?" Mikie snapped back.
    I quietly spoke so no one else could hear, "No, but why would you wanna be with an old man like me?"
    "Old? You don't look so old. How old are you anyways?" Mikie asked.
    "Thirty five. And how old are you?"
    "Fourteen." He shot back, "And I bet my dick is bigger'n yours though."
    "Well keep thinking that tiger, but I might have you beat there." I chuckled.
    "Dammmnn…Mikie. The name is Mikie, M.I.K.I.E…Mikie…do I look like a tiger??? Grrrrrrrrr!"
    "You growl like a tiger." We both giggled as Mom walked over and placed a chilli cheese burger with an order of onion rings in a basket on the table before each of us. She had two huge milk shakes and a brownie for each of us. She smiled. "This is on me…this is Jamie's favorite. I'll be back when you are finished and we can talk. You two getting along okay?"
    Mikie smartly kidded back. "Well, we will be when he can learn my name!" Mom laughed and walked away.
    As she was walking away she shook her head and muttered, "Boyz, gotta love em." I knew that I had to make an ally of the woman.
    I smiled and extended my hand. "Truce, Miiikie?"
    Mikie grinned the biggest grin of the night. He took my hand, "Why not Chriiiss." We both laughed and started in on the best chilli cheese burgers in town.
    We both finished the burgers. I pushed my milkshake across to Mikie when the waitress came to clear the table. I pushed my cup to her and asked for a refill. She was away and back in a flash with a full pot of fresh, hot coffee. I dipped a spoonful of ice from my glass of water and stirred it into the coffee then pulled about half of the hot brew into my body.
    "Thanks, that was great." I smiled at her. She refilled the cup again and returned my smile.
    "Yeah, and me too and this is even better." Mikie said holding a brownie in each hand and grinning, "just great," he mimicked me.
    The waitress smiled and was walking away when mom walked up. She bent to look at the boy then sat down next to him. "How was it precious?"
    Mikie smiled and put his head on her shoulder. "It was great mom, and thanks a lot."
    Mom hugged him back and smiled as she looked at the cute boy with nothing but love on her face. "It's Mom's pleasure to take care of her boys, and thank you too Chris."
    "I did nothing, I was just there."
    Mom looked concerned. "I know that you are usually there. So many times people just aren't there when they are needed, that's why it's so important to be there." I cocked my head and crossed my eyes at her. She smiled then turned to Mikie, "Baby, why don't you go and play the games in the back and give me a few minutes with Chris?"
    Mikie looked sad and dejected and said so. "Ohh kayyy…I guess."
    Mom saw how upset he was. "Baby, no, you sit right here with us, maybe you need to hear this too."
    Mikie perked right back up and looked over to me. "K…kewl then."
    Mom scooted over and got more comfortable. "Now let me explain about Jamie." I leaned in so that I wouldn't miss a word.
    Mom started to speak and turned to Mikie, "This is NOT to be repeated…got it?"
    Mikie looked somewhat shocked. "Yesss maaa'am." Then he sat back in his seat.
    Mom toyed with a book mark from Tomes of Time with one hand written word in large, bold letters across the top, BAW. She smiled at me as she started her story. "Jamie used to live across the alley back there with his father," she cocked her head toward the back of the café. "The old man never did nothing but cause trouble, for everybody. He couldn't keep a job because he wouldn't stay sober. He always sat in that corner booth over there as he tried to score the big one that would make him rich.
    "Jamie liked the martial arts and he was good. He had a brown belt from an old dojo that operated across the street. He would run in here with his little white uniform on that the kids wore over there and tell everybody how much fun he had that day."
    Mikie looked at me. "OHHHH so that's where he learned it."
    "Some of it baby. One day his old man was sitting in that booth with another man when Jamie ran in with a brand new brown belt. He was so excited that he gushed. It was his ninth birthday and he had earned a new belt, his dad couldn't have cared any less.
    "The man that he was with was listening to Jamie and he began to talk to his dad. Jamie was called back to the table to tell the man about his belt. I didn't see that baby again for almost five years. His father came back the next day and was selling cocaine. He told everybody that he had scored big. I asked about Jamie and he told me to shut up about the boy. He said that he was never coming back again."
    Mom sat back and wiped a tear from her eye as I placed my hand over hers. Mikie's mouth was gapping open like a fly trap, "Did his dad, like sell him for drugs or somethun?"
    "I thought so. Several other people thought so as well. The police talked to him and he told them that Jamie had gone to live with his grandmother, but I knew the grandmother was dead. Nobody saw Jamie's father the next day then we learned that he had been found in his old car out in the desert. His throat had been slit and the car set on fire. But there was no word of Jamie."
    Mikie stuttered in. "Thaaaaat really sucks." Mikie moved around the table and sat with his head against my side. I could feel him tremble as I wished that he had not heard the story that mom was telling.
    "Today is October the third, seven months ago today Jamie walked into the Sheriff's office down at Naco. He was carrying ten year old Marc Spangler in his arms. Marc had been raped and had bled out before Jamie could get the boy across the border and find help. Nobody would listen to Jamie as he tried to tell them where he had been and what had happened.
    "Jamie told me that the men that had kept him locked up for five years were at the sheriff's office later that night and that they were going to take him back to Mexico. The deputy was drinking and talking to the men when Jamie slipped out of the backdoor and ran into the desert. He hid himself and slowly made his way to a ranch house where he found a ride back here."
    Mikie perked up, he balled his fist and gave a power thrust in the air, "Yeeeessss!" Mom smiled.
    "One morning in April I looked up and Jamie was standing there outside and looking in that window. I ran out to him and he started to run away. I called his name and he stopped and looked back at me. I never seen nobody look so scared in all my days. That poor baby was so scared and didn't know where to run. I knew he was hungry but he didn't want to come in because he knew that his daddy would sell him to get more drugs again."
    I had two crying people with me as the sweat poured from my eyes and my body shook. If ever I had any doubts in my mind they were gone, I had to find Spike before the night was over. I was going to cross an international border before his story was finished. Mikie crawled into my lap and I cradled him to me. Mom looked at me and I scooted aside for her to slide in next to me.
    The waitress brought the coffee pot around and I ordered a cup of hot chocolate with a double pat of butter on top for Mikie. The weather was much too warm for hot chocolate but that is such a comfort food for upset boys that it seemed appropriate

    Mom went to the front cash register to close out her tickets for the night and Mikie made a run for the restroom. "I seem to find them don't I?" I like the fact that my tiny throat mic and sound bud are almost invisible. I can speak into the wind and no one near me has any idea that I am on the telephone.
    "Dad, I wish that I was with you. You have to find Jamie, dad. I am not going to sleep until I know that he is safe."
    "I find myself glued to my seat as well. Chris, Kyle is home now and I…"
    "I don't see any reason that he should not hear this, Andy. I know that he will not tell the other boys. Cory, I don't want anyone there listening in, do you hear me?"
    "I know dad. I am alone in our bed, alone, without you, alone. Dad, you need to be there, don't worry that I am alone."
    "Cory Allen, get a grip."
    "I would 'cept this isn't that kind of story. I hear someone crying, is that that kid Mikie?"
    "Yes. Jamie saved his life tonight and he seems to have taken to his new hero. I am worried about him right now, but it is too late to send him away. He is coming back. I love you." I took a drink of my coffee as Mikie sat back down. Mom returned to the table as the hot chocolate arrived.
    After placing the hot chocolate before Mikie the waitress moved two chairs across the doorway into the side dining room where we sat. With our little part of the world virtually shut off we continued to listen to a tale that was alarming at best.
    "The police couldn't find any sign of Jamie. Until about seven months ago he was held captive with other boys in Mexico. His captors had gradually brainwashed him enough to get his help to set up a school for kids to learn martial arts. After several years Jamie had pretty much gotten used to the idea of being a captive and he tried to make the most out of his situation. He knew that no one would help an American blond boy in an area where crime was rampant. Dog fights, cock fights, money laundering, drugs, prostitution were all common place.
    "Jamie and the other boys were scared most every hour of everyday. They were beaten daily, sexually abused, and threatened with their lives. The school was a place where brutal fights between young men and boys took place for the enjoyment of very influential people that paid well to see blood. The boys were trained in the martial arts and then set up in matches against other so called schools where young boys between ten and fifteen were trained to fight to the death. There was so much money to be made that nobody wanted them stopped."
    "Like them Roman gladataters…" I nodded and looked to mom to continue.
    "Many of the younger inexperienced boys, or boys that were not trained well, died for the enjoyment of rich men. Many were badly hurt and the men at the school shot them. Jamie told me that one boy that he became friends with told him of a boy that didn't fight well one night and they pushed that boy out of a moving car as they drove over a high bridge."
    Mom rested and looked about the café. Mikie looked at her with eyes that were scraped and bruised, he was crying. "Wwuuuus was that Sp-p-p-p-pike?"
    Mom hugged the boy again. "Oh no honey." Mikie took a deep breath and let it out. Mom stubbed out her cigarette and pushed the ashtray aside. She picked up her pack of cigarettes and looked at them for a long time then she looked directly at me.
    "Jamie wears that collar all the time to constantly remind him to trust no one, and to never love anyone again. He pretends to be the tough guy that he is now…only because he has to."
    "Yet he allows you to help him. I saw him get the food from the dumpster."
    Mom smiled and shook her head. "I have only gotten that far with him."
    She turned to Mikie. "Young man, tonight is the first time Jamie has stepped foot through those doors in five years. Evidently you are special to him. He needs someone like you. Honey please don't let him down…he is special and he needs special care."
    Mikie was watery-eyed again. "I won't mom…I promise."
    Mom hugged the boy close. "Good honey…that's good."
    "Where does he live? Or stay at night?" I asked her.
    "I shouldn't tell anyone but I know about you." She stared at Mikie, "Jamie would want to know this boy is alright. Do you know the culverts under the Veteran's Hospital?"
    Mikie responded. "Yeah sure."
    Mom continued. "Well on the this side of the overpass there is a ledge, down between the streets. He stays up under there so that he is above the water when it rains."
    "I know that you are a hero to street boys down here. What do you know about me?" I asked her.
    "I help as many boys as I can 'cause I didn't help two that I shoulda." Her face clouded. "They're good boys and they love you a lot, Chris. I'm…Roxie was my cousin. I didn't know what went on in that house. I woulda killed her myself. You go help Jamie. You help this one." She was nodding as tears formed and her chin quaked.
    I leaned over to Mom and whispered in her ear.
    Mom smiled and nodded She left and returned later with a styrofoam tray and a large drink. "Here you go, and it's a good idea. Thanks Chris, and you too young man." She leaned in and kissed Mikie on the cheek, he blushed three shades of red.
    I got up and tried to pay Mom but she wouldn't take it. I thanked her and turned to Mikie. "You comin?"
    Mikie grinned and jumped up. "Sure…where we going? You decide you like me after all?"
    We walked back past the closed restaurant where I had last seen Jamie then on to where an arroyo disappeared beneath the freeway. "Hey, I never said I didn't like you. Let's go find Jamie."
    "Oooohhhhoohohhoooo…you rascal you…that's kewll, I bet I know what you got too!" Mikie smirked.
    "Oh yeah what then?" I asked
    "OK…if I guess it…you gotta suck my cock right?" Mikie was sure of himself.
    I laughed. "You're a little scam artist. What have I got then?"
    "Deal then?" Mikie stepped back and held out his hand.
    I realized that it wouldn't be such a bad bet to lose. "Okay wise guy…what?"
    Mikie jumped in front of me and started walking backwards. "Well, chilli cheese burger, strawberry shake, rings, and a brownie! Wanna suck me now?" Mikie giggled hysterically.
    "Smart little fart. I thought that we should make peace with him. Onion rings are only good hot so I have fries for him."
    "Yippeee…so now you gotta suck my cock." he stopped and looked at me. "Chris, would you really suck my cock? I don't mind you know? I mean I would really like that, and I would do you too, ya know."
    I looked back at the beautiful little blond with his huge grey eyes. "You mean that?"
    "OH yeah…I would love to suck you." He said briskly.
    I shook my head. "No, I mean do you really want me to suck you?"
    Mikie looked stunned. "Oh hella yeah. But don't you want me to do you too?"
    "Well do you think I can handle one as big as yours?"
    "Oh man…I'm sorry bout that before." He laughed. "But how bout it?"
    "Well, we'll see."
    Mikie frowned, "Okay."
    I caught his feeling of rejection, "Well, we do have to get a room someplace to spend the night don't we?"
    Mikie jerked his head up with a glorious smile. "Alllriiiight."
    "But we need to get this shake to Spike before it melts."
    "Sure thing…this way." Mikie resumed the lead as we crossed under the freeway to where Spike was

    "What the fuck you doin' here? Get out or I'll fuckin' kill ya." Spike was above us in the shadows cast by the lights along the freeway over our head. "Oh, it's you, kid."
    "My name's…"
    "Mikie!! Who's the crunk?"
    "I am here to talk to a young hero and I brought food from mom."
    "Mom told you where I's at? You knows her?"
    "We're phat."
    "You wack, dude. That twenty don't buy you nuttin' here."
    "Jamie, I am so wack that I know what you want. I am going to put this chilli burger down and sit over here, but I am not leaving till we rap."
    "Mikie, ¿él mental?"
    "No, he's kewl."
    "Jamie, I told you that you saved Mikie's life. He doesn't know it yet but he is about to find out that the very best thing in the world is his. It can be yours too. I am not about to bounce till I tell you."
    "You talk weird for a wack. You don't speak Mex does you?"
    "No, I have lived in this town for my whole life and I never learned enough of the language to keep from getting my throat cut." I had climbed up the steep slope to sit atop a ledge fifteen feet above the boys. Spike was on his haunches with a burger in one hand and his other fist filled with fries that he ate as he turned his hand from side to side to bite off the ends sticking out in every direction.
    Spike had the look of a feral cat about him as his eyes took in everything around him, yet never left me. "What ya got, Mikie?"
    "A friend, I think. He…I don't know. I likes the dude. Mom, told me he's real kewl, someone I'd oughta know and all."
    Spike turned the cup up and finished the last of his strawberry shake. He tossed the empty cup back over his shoulder and went off balance and landed on his back. At the same instant three rapid gunshots raced through the storm sewer.
    "Ya got em, homie. Ya shot that nigga."
    "Shut your mouth and listen. He was talkin someone up. Wherzeat?" The light reflecting from a passing vehicle lit me up. The three boys from earlier in the alley approached Spike lying flat on the ground. The big mouth pointed his gun in my direction, bad move.

So there you have it. Is your friction enhanced by my fiction?
Tell me about it at fisherman@iname.com
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