Life on the Farm (James' Story Part 2)

The usual cautions, precautions, copyright information, and other such things, such as this story contains sexual situations between consenting adolescent boys, it is copyrighted meaning please do not republish this story in any form without express written consent from, and attribution to the author, © 2011 Joe Writer Man.

If reading such material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then notice is given that you are reading at your own risk, and that © 2011 Joe Writer Man is held forever and completely harmless should any legal action be taken against you.

This is solely a work of fiction. Any semblance to any real live person is purely incidental and coincidental, and is a figment of the authors’ imagination.

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(It's been a few days, sorry for the delay. Chores have been heavy, so much so that by the time the day is finished I've been brain dead. Anyway, dinner tonight was awesome in that Mom and Stacy made pork cutlets, green beans, carrots, fresh Spinach, a fruit melody and two big ole apple crumb pies (with ice cream!). I went to the restroom, rubbed one out so I'm relaxed now. Here it goes.)

*-*

After the near meltdown with my egg donor I lay down on my back and just looked up into the sky. It was a crystal clear afternoon, the sun was warm, a light breeze was blowing, the birds were chirping, a frigging frog bellowing out its irritation with me being there (fuck you frog heh heh heh), and well with the distractions I relaxed and chilled out for a while then took out for the inner city.

I wasn't in any hurry which was a good thing because I was really sore. When I reached the school, I sat down under a fully leafed out maple tree to rest for a few minutes. While I was there a truck pulled into the parking lot (aka playground), drove to an open door, backed in and then stopped. I looked up. The truck belonged to the man who I'd met at the park and in town.

He spotted me and waived. I gave him a half-assed waive back. He walked over, wrapped his fingers through the chain link fence and said, “Hey buddy.”

“Hey.” I responded noncommittally.

I slowly stood up and faced him. A look of concern crossed his face. He said, “Are you okay? Did you get medical care?”

“NO!! I didn't get medical care. I’m fine.” I said with slight irritation in my voice. I didn't feel like being questioned to the n'th degree.

“Oh, I'm sorry to have bothered you. I've got work to do so I'll just leave you alone.” He said then turned and walked purposefully back to his truck.

After he left I got to thinking... he seemed to be a nice enough guy and he did make sure I was okay after getting hit by the car. While debating on whether or not to see what he was doing I saw a couple of boys, probably 4th graders, riding shiny brand new Schwinn bicycles down the street. They slowed down a little bit at seeing me standing on the sidewalk looking at them. They then sped by. When they passed they flipped me off and called me a cocksucker. I half ran, half walked into the street to give them my fair share of shit by flipping them off and screaming, “If I ever catch you guys, you motherfuckers are dead meat!”

Had I been in full form I would have easily ran them down and kicked their asses into next week.

While I was ranting and raving (sounds familiar, eh?) the next thing I knew I was being thrown to the pavement as a passing car sped past us. A pair of arms were around me pushing me to the side of the street and then kicked my legs just as another car went flying down the hill, and then one more before the road once again became quiet.

He got up and off of me then reached his hand out. Slowly, with shards of pain flying from my hip, I got up on my own.

He said, “That was really close. I'm sorry if I hurt you.”

I was pissed, and I couldn't determine if it was from the fact that I'd been thrown to the pavement or if I'd missed another opportunity to...

Before I could answer he said, “You've got to pay more attention, Jason. Your leg is bleeding... can I get you medical help. I can call an ambulance using my cell phone.”

“I'm okay.” I replied while brushing the rocks and other junk from my shoulder that had hit the pavement. I saw that I had another set of scrapes on my elbow and another new one on my wrist. The skin was raw and the wounds were oozing a trace amount of blood.

“Jason, I only want to help. We seem to be meeting like this on a regular basis. Far too often for my nerves.” That last said with a slight nervous chuckle.

I looked into his eyes wary of what his motives might have been. I'd heard of kids getting beaten up and even raped by 'well intentioned' men but I saw nothing malevolent in his eyes that led me to the conclusion that he really was genuine with his offer. Slowly I reached into my pocket and retrieved the package of Band-Aids and tube of antibiotic cream. I offered him the supplies.

While he got the bandage ready I kept busy rubbing the sand and grit from the scrapes. It hurt like hell and wasn't anything like the clean I’d get if I'd had warm water but the big pieces were gone. Efficiently he bandaged the two areas of broken skin after putting antibiotic cream on each of them. He handed the items back. I pushed them down in a pocket on the side of my shorts and said, “Thanks.”

The man then pointed to my leg. I looked down and saw a shiny trail of blood on my calf beginning beneath the hem of my shorts and going on into my sock. Motherfucker, son of a bitch... my damn cut hurt like hell. Shit.

“Jason, there is something very wrong. If you would like, I’ll take you inside. You can use the restroom to check it out.”

I turned to leave. I didn't want some pervert fucking around with me. After all I had some scruples but he said which stopped me, “Jason, you have the bandages. I will not go into the bathroom while you are in there – unless you specifically ask me to go with you.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

His eyes told the truth. He added at seeing my skepticism, “I have a son about your age. He's a pretty independent little rascal. I've learned to give him his privacy but will go to him in an instant if he asks me to. Because you are a stranger, I would not ever betray whatever little trust in me that you may have.”

Slowly I nodded. He safely led me across the street after checking traffic both ways. While we walked across the playground he said his name was McCallister Padduck but that everybody called him Mac. His parents were Polish immigrants who'd been brought to America in their early youth. I recognized the accent once he stated his heritage.

I knew the wing we entered was closed for renovations but I hadn't realized so much work was going to be so involved. He led me through a path though he hadn't needed to.

(Looking back I see why he was so careful with every step... he just gave a shit. I'm sorry that I couldn't have appreciated him more. Someday I'll try to track him down and thank him for his kindness and concern for my well being. He didn’t deserve the kind of shit I gave him.)

He moved cardboard boxes away from the entry way to the 'Boys' restroom. He said, “I'll wait here for you. That way I can hear in case you need something.”

I headed inside, went to a sink, sat my stuff down and then rinsed the two scrapes with soap and water – that stung like hell; I thought my arm was on fire. To myself I said out loud, “Don't be such a fucking pussy!”

Quickly, I bandaged up the scrapes. I looked to the door. I saw his shadow and it appeared that he hadn't moved. Either I was going to trust him -or- not. I lowerd the front of my shorts and underwear down to my pubic area and let them ride on my hips. I looked at the cut. It had opened up again... son of a bitch. Nevertheless, I cleaned it out and re-bandaged it. It hurt like fucking hell. I angrily pulled my shorts up, snapped them and then realized my shoulder hurt too. Taking a leap of faith I said, “Mr. Padduck.”

“Yes. I'm here.”

“Uhm, I've got a scrape on my shoulder...”

He asked, “Is there something I can do?”

“Uhm, I can't get to it... and well, uhm...”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course... sorry... yes.”

The man entered the doorway to the restroom and looked at me carefully. (I would later learn that he carefully looked to make sure I didn't have my dick out and wasn't waiting for me to show him my stuff with hopes that he'd suck it off.)

“Uhm, it’s my shoulder. I think it’s cut too. It stings like crazy. Uhm... would you...?”

“Sure. If you get uncomfortable just let me know. I’m just going to lift your shirt up so we can take a look.”

After lifting my shirt up to my neck he took paper towels and washed and rinsed the abrasion. I already knew it was going to sting but it wasn't so bad because he diluted the soap with water. Duh. Dumb kid. After putting on the bandage he brought my shirt down and made sure it was neat and everything.

He looked at me with serious concern on his face. He said, “Jason, you’ve got some serious bug bites. The abrasion isn’t bad but your bites are getting infected.”

“Yeah, I’ve been washing them with soap and water. They’re better than they were. Uhm, okay, thanks. Okay, I need to be going home now.”

My attitude turned to sarcasm as I thought about how I “should be” going home to a happy place, and how it should have been MY parents who were fixing my shit. I responded, angrier than I intened, “Mommy and daddy have dinner waiting for me. They’ll worry SO MUCH since I’m not home now playing!”

Mac looked at me like, “What the fuck is going on with you child?” Instead he said, “Is there something at home I can help you with? I’m really concerned.”

Still angry, I spat, “No, nobody can do anything... I need a fucking job to make money!”

I started shaking. My defenses were crumbling. I knew it. And it was going to happen. And it was going to happen really soon.

Without saying another word I tore out, left the building and headed into town.

“Jason, stop. I’m just trying to help. JASON!”

I just took off running, not giving him any indication that I was listening... yet I heard him.

My hip was killing me but I kept on running. Finally, I ducked into an alleyway door because I did not feel the money roll firmly planted in my crack. I stuck my hand down the back of my shorts and underwear. It had just fallen into the loose area. Because my underwear was snug the money hadn't gone anywhere, and the likelihood of it going anywhere was slim to nil. I stopped and rested to get my breath back.

I looked up, there was the MIckey-D’s just down the street. I caught my breath then slowly made my way there with plans to pig out. I looked around before I got there, hiding in the shadows in the event that mother and father had, by choice, decided to eat out. That was their favorite place. It wasn't too bad. They made killer French fries. Their car wasn't anywhere to be seen so I entered, ordered a double double cheese burger with everything on it, a large order of fries, a bowl of chili, and a Coke. When the order was ready I took it, sat down next to a window at the front of the establishment then tore into it like there was no yesterday, and like there would be no tomorrow.

As I was chowing down, thinking about nothing in particular, the 'rents drove by in dad's Toyota Camry. They were on a mission. They were looking from one side of the street to the other, and everywhere. I pinched my butt cheeks tight. An adrenalin rush nearly overtook me when they turned into the drive-through lane. Quickly, I wrapped up the rest of my hamburger, smashed it down into an unused leg pocket then made my way into the bathroom where I went into a stall, closed the door, and sat on the toilet, and hoped and prayed that they weren't stopping to eat in at the restaurant. My stomach began rumbling, I felt full, knew I had to use it yet was afraid to move for fear that dad would enter – he was like that, he always had to use the facilities before eating... it was one of his peculiarities, one that I'd never understood.

Knowing that I'd eventually, sooner than later, need to use it, I unbuckled my belt, unsnapped and unzipped. That relieved some of the pressure in my stomach. I sat there for probably 20 or more minutes, just waiting for the moment of his arrival. When enough time passed, I wiggled around to get my shorts and underwear down after taking the money roll out of my butt crack. Just as the explosion hit, somebody came through the door into the bathroom. Quickly, I looked down and saw that my shorts were bunched up around my ankles and my tennis shoes clearly in sight from the doorway. The voice, my father's voice, said, “James, are you in there?”

Then I saw it.

My fucking money was lying on the damn floor. I quickly reached down to fetch it and then held it in my hand all the while chiding myself on being so fucking stupid and irresponsible. While thinking that I kept my mouth shut and my breathing soon returned to normal.

The son of a bitch didn’t move for 2 or 3 minutes. Meanwhile, I continued to periodically bear down to give the illusion that I was still working.

That seemed to work. Footsteps were heard to head toward the other end of the bathroom where the urinals were located. Quickly, I took off my shirt and hung it so that the gap between the door and frame was closed – at least couldn’t see my face.

I heard his zipper close then his footsteps as he walked to the toilets area. (I need to add that my father was the grossest man on the planet. He never washed his hands after using the facilities. That day was no different.) A bank of sinks was located between the urinals and the stalls. He didn’t stop.)

He stepped so close to the door of my stall that I saw his shoes. I fully expected to see his face over the top of the door but thankfully he didn’t lean over because he could have easily done just that. He was about 5 feet 10 inches tall. I was sweating bullets.

“James, I saw your tennis shoes, your shorts and your hair. Your mother and I, we need to talk to you.”

(I need to add that when I was a kid, that is before puberty struck, I was able to mimic voices. Some of the voices I used were far unlike my real voice. Besides that everybody here at home knows my voice – so there’s no chance of getting by like I did that day in the restroom -oops I went ahead of myself.)

I changed my voice, “My name’s Jason. You actually saw my shorts! What are you some kind of a fucking pervert? Get the fuck out of here before I start screaming RAPE! I’m calling the COPS!” I reached into a pocket and started fumbling around for a non-existent cell phone.

The room cleared in 5 seconds, or less. The door to the bathroom shut loudly.

I waited for another three or four minutes before moving hoping against hope that he’d not reenter, and hoped even harder that a manager or a cop didn’t show up. That would have been a major disaster.

Just as another cramp took hold the bathroom door opened again. The visitors were different though... I heard 3 sets of footsteps and 3 voices. One was young, a real chatterbox he was. Another was an adult man and the last was an older boy. Normally, I don’t perv on people but as one of those people entered the next door stall I looked down. I judged the shoes to belong to a young boy. He lowered his pants and underwear. Like I said I’m not a perv but his Spiderman underwear confirmed my assessment of his youthful age. He then let loose into the toilet.

The cramp hit its crescendo. I had no choice. The boys and their father were busily chattering back and forth between themselves. My relief came quickly. The little boy snickered. The little shit (pun intended!). His dad said something about it being rude to laugh at someone else but I replied, “Ha, I’m being pretty loud. No offense taken.”

The man and the other older boy chuckled. The little boy told his dad that his duty was finished. The father helped his son to clean up and get redressed. (My supposed father had never done that instead he had berated me constantly and continuously for wearing nasty skid marks in my underwear.)

I was still feeling cramps so I stayed seated. The older boy quietly did his business in short order. That’s okay because I was making enough noise and splash for everybody. Finally, I felt done. I hurried up wiping because I wanted leave with them, if it were at all possible.

We met at the sink (I’d put my money in a pocket) and washed and dried our hands. The man said to me, “Are you okay, son. You look pretty pasty. Maybe I could get your dad.”

“Oh no sir, I’ll be fine. I think my problem is the crud they serve here.”

The man giggled and said that maybe I had a point there but the little one, a kid maybe 6 years old, chided both his father and me for talking bad about his favorite place to eat. The older one said something about his little brother being a stink bomb with turd breath. His dad didn’t like that… and so the story goes. I was ready to go and get out of Dodge.

I was polite and held the door open for them to leave (little did they know that I was using them to my advantage) and then followed them to the exit of the restaurant.

I looked around for the ‘rents car. I about crapped a brick when I saw them leave from the drive thru but they weren’t paying any attention which was nothing unusual for them. But then I nearly panicked when the brake lights illuminated. The car stopped on a dime. Just as father’s door opened I ducked behind the brick facing then made my way to the back where I stood behind their dumpster. God, it stunk. No wonder why my stomach had been upset. I stayed there for about 10 minutes or so when a worker came through the door with a bag of trash. He looked at me real strange. But he didn’t say anything until I reached into my pocket to retrieve some money. The first bill that was on top was a $20. I said to the guy, “Would you please check out front and tell me if a 2008 Toyota Camry is setting around anywhere?”

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

No more than 3 minutes passed when he returned and said there were no Toyotas in the parking lot or along the street. I thanked him profusely and handed him the $20 bill. He smiled then went on about his business, and I took off knowing I couldn’t run anywhere but after limbering up I could walk fast if absolutely necessary. I did a cursory look around. Not seeing them anywhere in sight I took off for the park. My plan was to hang out in the park for the night and then figure out what to do next the following day.

After arriving at the park I saw their fucking car in the lot. More disturbing is that they were walking toward the tree line separating the park from the baseball diamonds. What the fuck. They never went there, not for any reason. Shit. Shit. Shit. Now what? And I'd reached my limit. I couldn't go much further.

I hid behind a tree. I needed to get settled down fairly soon if I was going to survive. From all the walking, tension and stuff I was hurting badly. Had they not been stupid fucks I would have gladly gone home with them, soaked in a tub of hot water, jacked off and went to bed – but that was just insane dreaming.

I debated on going to my home away from home – the dumpster – however that was about a mile and a half away. I knew I’d never make it. I did however notice a clump of bushes nearby. They were fairly tall so after looking around and seeing that the coast was clear I walked to them then scurried my way inside trying to make sure I could not be seen. The fucking thorns and thistle like things were a pain but I had my ass up in the air, literally, and the son of a bitch knew what shorts I was wearing so I really had no choice but to go on in. Surely something would work out. Two fucking hours later I saw them walk to the car and drive off in the direction of ‘home’.

I decided to hunker down where I was so for the next hour or so I cleared the ground just enough so that I could lay down spread eagle. I was too worn out, sore, mosquito bit, scraped up and tired that I just fell into an exhausted sleep not even bothering to take care of my male needs even though my cock was hard and needy for a good cum.

The following morning I went to the convenience store, purchased a big bottle of shampoo, dressing supplies for my cuts and scrapes, Calamine lotion for my bug bites, and fast packaged food because I didn’t know where dinner would come from or if I’d be able to move around very far.

I did not go home. I had no plans to return if there was any chance of being found out. I figured the ‘rents had changed the locks anyway.

*-*

A week or so later I felt almost human again. I had stayed away from home and the neighborhood so that I could get my wits back and not have to worry about who might have been around to give me grief, including the cops. Other than taking the money that should have been used for me anyway I'd kept my nose clean and out of trouble by largely paying for stuff as I went along.

The only problem that I saw at the time was the fact that I had no other clothes and needed a shower mighty damn bad. Twice I'd hit two different motels to try and get a room. The workers said I needed a parent or guardian to rent the room. Even with the cash I had they wouldn't break the rules. Dumb. Whatever.

The antibiotic cream and bandaging was working. The cut on my hip was healing. The bug bites were just about healed up. The major problem was my fucking hip. I still couldn’t run if my life had depended on it. Thankfully, my life hadn’t depended on a quick get-away! At night I began icing it down. Also, my hand started swelling. I remembered that I landed on it when Mac saved my ass that day at the school. I iced it too.

(Speaking of hands... I would later learn that I’d actually broken a small bone in my hand.)

After that, I decided to get brave and brazen. On that following Friday morning I entered the neighborhood and made my way close to home, close enough to see the driveway. I'd seen Mac's truck next to the school building however he wasn't outside even though I had waited around in the bushes waiting for him to appear. I waited for over an hour and didn’t see him. When I checked at ‘home’, neither of the ‘rents cars were at home so I carefully and as quietly as I could yet trying to appear as natural as possible just walked around to the kitchen door, looked in, saw nothing so I let myself in with the passkey. I was glad they hadn’t changed the fucking locks like I expected... just goes to prove what dumbasses they are.

Very, very quietly, I walked around inside looking for any signs of life. I was pleased that to find that I was alone. In fact the mailbox was full as if nobody had been home for a while. To prevent intrusions, I decided to lock both front and back doors including the screen doors. At least if they came home I'd know about it much, much sooner than the last time I'd returned.

With that I headed for the shower, turned on the water and got it to temperature. At the same time I stripped naked, used the facilities and then once again took a long leisurely hot shower without concern for intrusion, or for time to get in a good satisfying jerk of with a really kewl conclusionf. When the water began cooling down I very quickly washed each and every pore of my body. Actually the colder water felt good on the many, many mosquito bites I'd acquired during my travels even if they were mostly healed by that time.

I dried off, sauntered through the house naked and found myself relaxing just a little bit because I really wasn’t at home as in 'home', not really. I was just borrowing their stuff and facilities, and at that point had no intentions on staying for more than an hour or two, or three at most.

I was ravenous hungry so I got into the refrigerator to see what was there. The milk was spoiled. The vegetables and other produce were growing green and black things. I tossed the spoiled shit in the refrigerator. I opened the freezer door... the day was saved! My sperm donor likes those stuffed crust pizzas so I said “fuck you, Asshole”, fired up the oven, took two pizzas out to thaw, made an instant graham cracker crust butterscotch pudding pie – and then feasted until I was ready to pop a gut. (He’d long ago forbidden me to get into or use any of his shit no matter what it was! I really should see and treat him with more compassion... but not yet, I’m not there. I’ve been a good son here... his loss.)

At about 4:30pm I put on some clean clothes and placed the dirty filthy ones in the dirty clothes hamper. I even cleaned up the kitchen. Mom would have been proud – NOT.

Just for the hell of it I went and logged onto the computer and brought up the Missing Child website. My name was not on it. (Thinking about that... Remember how I hate to get emotional? Well, my rule got broken despite my best attempts to keep them down. I wondered what I'd done to be hated so bad, to not be wanted and to not be given one flying fuck about. Oh yeah, the abortion would have fucked up their (her) partying... for two to four whole weeks.)

Once I got my emotions in check I made a determination to never again be cold and hungry. I'd get a job to make my own way. I didn't need anybody... not parentally anyway. Sure I'd need a boss, a banker to hold all the money I'd make, a landlord, and of course the grocery store, the utilities, all the normal bullshit needed to make a life of my own.

The problem was that I was 11 years old. I had no clue as to what I would do to make a living to support myself... other than an 11 year old determination, quick thinking abilities, strength (I was strong for a kid), stamina -and- a fierce determination to succeed, to make my dream come true. Erase that – 'dream'... I had a plan.

Just then the phone rang. It continued to ring until it stopped. We didn't have voice mail or any of those other fancy phone gadgets. In fact, the egg donor had threatened to have the phone turned off because it was only rarely used but the sperm donor said he needed it for business purposes – that was a big fat fucking lie. He never used the house phone, period. Whatever.

At 5:15 I got ready to leave figuring they'd be home within the next 30 minutes or so. That would give me time to get out of the neighborhood before they arrived. I didn't want another deal with her like I’d had the previous time, or the time before that, or the time before that.

Just as I was shutting down the computer a “Calendar Reminder” popped up. All it said was “Alaskan Cruise”.

“What?” I said out loud then totally mystified added, “They went fucking to Alaska?!!!”

I'd always wanted to go to Alaska. The Asshole had promised they'd take me there before I grew up and left home. I got into their email calendar... they'd been gone for 2 days and would be gone another 12 days... he had several appointments scheduled for the Monday after they got back. That meant I had 11, no 10, days before I had to leave again. KEWL!

I pulled the wad of money out of my butt crack, laid it on the computer desk all neat and tidy then went to my room and stripped buck naked. I lay down on my bed, jacked off to a colossal conclusion then fell into a deep, deep, deep sleep. I don't remember dreaming and nothing woke me up until the following morning when I awoke refreshed and ready to take on the world.

I headed to the grocery store and stocked up with a few days' supply of good food. Fucking groceries, shit they were expensive. I'd spent over $100 and only had 4 good sized bags full of good shit, including some meat and fresh fruits and vegetables. That night I had a feast of grilled steak and vegetables, some fruit, and a fresh butterscotch pie.

On the second morning of 'vacation' I made an appointment with my pediatrician's office. My hand was still fucked up really, and the mosquito bites around the leg openings of my underwear had obviously gotten infected - not to forget my hip was still fucked. I'd been there many, many times before during my lifetime and they made the appointment without question, other than asking if I knew if our insurance had changed. I didn't know so I told them to my knowledge it hadn’t changed.

Upon arrival the receptionist asked where my parents were because they needed parental permission to treat me. I also didn't know that they had my insurance listed as Medicaid. Medicaid requires authorization. She told me to sit in the waiting room, which I did like a good little boy <gags>.

About half an hour later the nurse called my name. She led me into an exam room, took my blood pressure and stuff. Before leaving she told me to undress and put on a sexy (NOT!) gown and that the doctor would be in soon, just as soon as they got authorization. That got me to worrying. What if they tried to call the ‘rents and not being able to reach them called CPS?

Needless to say, the second she left I was dressed and headed down the back stairs. I headed for Mickey-D's, ate lunch, paid for it and then headed home passing by the school but didn't stop. A strange car was parked across the street from the house but I thought nothing of its presence. When I walked around back to enter through the kitchen a portly man of probably 30 years old was waiting on the steps. He saw me, quickly got up, walked over and asked me if I was James Talley. My guard went up and due to my youth acknowledged that I was indeed James Talley.

He introduced himself as Wendell Good from CPS.

My blood ran cold as ice but I maintained. I was busted. But I did not recognize him and from the single paper in his hand he didn't recognize me either, not from any paperwork that isr. He asked me a bunch of questions. I answered them but hedged around the ones about my parents whereabouts. I emphatically told him I'd not been abused in any way, that instead I was a Tom Sawyer kinda kid, played in forts, had an accident on my bike that caused my scrapes, cuts, bruises, etc.

He asked to enter the house so that he could take a look around. I had no problem with that... at least outwardly. He checked the refrigerator and the cupboards. He commented that everything looked in order but he insisted to check out my room. My bed was made and any dirty clothes were in the hamper to be washed. He checked the bathroom. It was immaculate (duh).

He then started looking me over very carefully. He asked me to lift my shirt. I did. The last thing I wanted him to think was that I was hiding and on the lam.

While he was looking at my skin I remembered the cash lying on the computer desk... other than my eyes opening up wide I maintained.

He then asked me to lift my shorts up so he could see my legs, which I did. No problem. The mosquito bites were rampant, I had counted over 60 bites while I was showering.

He asked me if I had more north of the river... I said I did. He didn't ask to see and I would have put my foot down if he had asked. He was an okay guy actually. He was just concerned... I felt he was genuine. I know things about people (still do).

I waited for about 20 minutes after he left to strip down but not before grabbing my money and stashing it safely in a pocket of my shorts.

After that, I goofed around, jacked off twice in quick succession. Satiated for the moment I went and peed, got dressed then headed for the school. Mac and I had business to attend to. I decided he was 'real' so I had no problem with asking him something to make my plan pan out.

His truck was parked next to the building but he was not in or near it so I kept on going, stopping at the park and goofing off for a while until my stomach started growling letting me know that it was hungry. I walked back home the same way I'd come (of course I used the sidewalks and crossed at intersections having cross walks and went by the lights – I'd learned my lessons!)

When I passed the school he was outside putting tools in his truck. Seeing movement he looked up, saw me and immediately waived. He started walking toward me and I started walking toward him.

When we met he said, “Afternoon Jason.”

“Afternoon Mac.” Smiling I added, “Hey I'm using the sidewalks and stuff.”

He chuckled, “That's good. How are you this fine day?”

“Oh I'm fine. I'm on my way home. I've been goofing off at the park feeding the ducks and stuff. I really wanted to stop and tell you I’m sorry for acting like an ass the other day.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having a pretty messed up day the last time, so I can understand your anger. I appreciate that you thought enough to want to apologize though. That shows me you are a ‘real’ person as well. I accept your apology.”

“Thanks. I really was an ass. I do that sometimes... well, anyway, how are the renovations coming along?”

“I’m glad you asked. They’re coming along just fine. They should be finished in a few more weeks. Do you go to school here?”

“Yup. Say, do you have a job that I could do? I need to earn some money for a school trip this year?”

“A school trip? When is that? I wasn’t aware of a trip. Jason, my son goes to school here. You might even know him. I don’t know everything though.”

He eyed me carefully. His demeanor changed to dismissive. He turned toward his truck and hoisted a large tool box into its compartment then looked at me square in the eyes as he took his gloves off. He started to say something but I corrected myself, “Shit. Sir...”

“How old are you anyway, Jason?”

“15, Sir.”

“Oh come on boy. You are not 15 and there is no trip that I know about..Jason, I don’t take to people lying to me. If you were my son I’d blister your hide and you wouldn’t sit down for a week. I’m busy.”

I thought about it... “I’m not 15, Sir. I’m 11 and a half. I just really need a job, but I really can’t say why.”

“I’m getting in deep sir. I can’t tell you WHY I need a job... okay, my real name is James. I’m 11 and a half. There is no trip. This is the truth. Maybe I’m the fuck... No, never mind, sorry.”

Mac turned toward me. He point blank asked, “Are you in trouble? Are you being hurt?”

“Not really. I really can’t go into it. I’m safe. I’ve got enough to eat... I’m okay. I just need a job and I’ll be fine. Honest.”

Damn it to hell... I felt my throat tightening up, my chest was getting heavy, son of a bitch, goddamnit. I started to take a step back but tripped (on purpose, I had to get control, and if I didn’t get control then my emotion had to look legit).

Mac reached his arm out and grabbed my arm. He looked into my eyes and said, “James, what is going on? The truth is the best place to start. Most times all a man has is his integrity. If you can't trust somebody... we'll, he's got a rough road to row in life. Since you came clean... are you being straight with me?”

His eye contact never left mine. Softly I said, “I'm a hard worker and can pull my own weight. I need to make some money before it gets cold. I’m okay right now.”

Mac looked at me carefully. He was thinking. He said, “Son, I could get in a big bunch of trouble for hiring a boy to do a union job. Not only that but the work is often dangerous... there's just a bunch of stuff around here that could get you hurt and me in trouble. I’m sorry.”

“That's okay. I guess I ought to get home. The folks should be home soon.”

“Where are your folks James? A boy don’t get hurt like you are and not get treated. That’s just wrong. Things aren’t adding up, James.”

I firmly pulled my arm away and said, “I can’t tell you. I am looking for a job. I have to pull my own weight... I don’t take handouts or charity. I’ll find something.”

“James, for starters, why were you at the park with a bottle of shampoo, and why were you undressed in a public place, and why were you washing your clothes in the lake? That doesn’t sound like you’re being up and up with me. Now talk to me.”

I turned away and began walking across the playground toward the exit. He was calling my name. I didn’t look back until I hit the sidewalk. Something caught my attention... it was his footsteps. He reached for my arm... instead of being pissed he turned me to face him. He had nothing but concern in his eyes. He said, “James, are you homeless? If you are there is help available. You are not the only child to be on the streets. If you are it is such waste. You’re a good kid but you’re scared shitless.”

“No, I'm not homeless. And I won't accept any fucking charity even if I was. I told you I'm willing to do anything. I just need some money. I'll work for it.”

He started to say something but I wheeled around and headed for home as quickly as my gimpy leg would let me. As I walked one step at a time my reserves were dwindling to almost non-existent. I was fighting to keep myself from breaking down and crying, something I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time. Why are things so fucked up? Why can’t I just work?

I fumbled around in my pocket, found the key, let myself in then crashed into the fucking table because my eyes were fucking me up, I just couldn’t focus... With shards of pain running through my leg I had to sit down. How the fuck can I work now? I sat, burying my face in my hands trying to muster up my composure. I refused, ABSOLUTELY REFUSED to allow myself to break down and cry.

Eventually, I got my shit together again. Once I did, I stripped down, made myself a bologna, cheese, lettuce and tomato sandwich, my favorite meal of all times then watched TV for a while before going to bed where I took my penis and made it and myself very, very happy. I lay there contemplating. I just knew there was something out there that I could do to make money enough to get started.

I don’t quit. I don’t give up. I can’t.

I laid low for two days, just staying at home, laying around not doing much, watching fuckin daytime TV, sleeping, jacking off, and eating every now and again because I didn’t want to run out of groceries to eat. I learned in health class that nutrition is important so that a body can heal its injuries.

On the third day I felt better. I went for a long walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the school. Mac was getting too close, so close in fact that I was getting worried that I’d be found out. A thought entered my head. I had just a little over $300.00 left in my pocket money. I had right around $275.00 in the bank sitting in a savings account. WIth that money I could buy a bicycle. I could get further out while looking for a job, and I could get there and back to wherever it was that I was staying.

After taking a dump, enjoying a very long hot shower and getting dressed I took off for the bank. When I arrived and filled out the withdrawal slip I took it to a teller. I told her I wanted to buy a bicycle with the money. Haughtily, she told me that a parent would have to make the transaction. I told the bitch that it was my money and could do with it as I pleased. She said otherwise. I was gathering the attention of other tellers. That was the last thing I wanted to do. She turned to another customer and acted just like I was not even fucking there.

The only thing I didn’t do was to toss the sperm donor’s name out on the counter. But I needed no further attention.

As I turned around I ran into a man, literally. I excused myself though it was only half-assed since I was pissed. He stepped aside and let me out of the entrance to the tellers’ window.I walked out of that fucking bank and headed up the sidewalk.

I turned the corner at the next intersection. From behind me a pleasant male voice said, “Hey kid. Wait up.”

I turned around. It was the customer at the bank. He walked to me. I acknowledged his presence. He said, “What they did at the bank was pretty messed up. Where ya headed, maybe I can help.”

*** To be continued

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