Alan's Beach -- More Mackey Tails

Written by Sarge AKA Aldric <pietar_the_fearless@yahoo.com>, Charles Well <charleswell@tutanota.com> and David davidthornton70@tutanota.com

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Warning

This story is a sexual fantasy about young teen and preteen boys having sex. It was written by adults for the entertainment of other adults. The people, places and events detailed here are made up. The authors would never wish to see the events in this tale happen to anyone in real life.

Chapter 3 -- 29-30 days before the MAC

Brett and Ollie Mackey -- 30 days before the MAC

Twelve-year-old Scott Mackey approached the front door of the house of his very distant cousin. He had made an appointment for a session with the Tailer, Colton Mackey Jr. Although Colton was 14 and had the reputation of being somewhat of a bully, Scott was hardly phased by any of that. He was rather turned on by the idea of having an older boy do his sexual bidding. Besides, such an encounter was just following the natural order of things in Alan's Beach. Colton was a descendant of old Charlie Mackey, one of the original settlers of the town. But everyone knew that none of Charlie's descendants ever amounted to anything.

On the other hand, Scott had the good fortune to be a scion of Alan Mackey. Apart from giving his Christian name to the town, much of Alan Mackey's extensive brood became both the brains and money behind the community. And since sign-up for this year's MAC Day Awards had been opened, boys from the poorer side of town had been beating a path to his door. They all knew Scott was an influence maker at South Valley Elementary, in the wealthy part of town, and he could marshal votes for his chosen candidate. He had proved that last year when he ensured the then 11-year-old Bob Kelly was awarded first prize in that age category. And as an added bonus, he got to fuck poor Bob, at least once a day, every day since.

Although Colton was in his final year as a Tailer, Scott had never called on him for sex before. But he knew that Colton had at least three younger brothers. He had files on everyone. His dad was the town mayor after all. Scott had established a reputation as a leader and trendsetter at school. This made him popular, but his teachers considered him lazy. However, Scott didn't see the point of working hard. He had already discovered the secret to success in life. You manipulated others to get what you wanted. It was as simple as that. That's what all successful people did. He was a "big ideas" person and the rich and famous left the minutiae in life, like homework or good grades, to their underlings.

The notes Scott had made on these very distant cousins of his showed there was a kid his age, Oliver, usually called Ollie, and an 11-year-old named Bret. Both were eligible to take part on MAC Day and it was clear from the house he was standing in front of, the family needed the money. He'd seen Colton, Ollie and Bret around town, but didn't know them well. Colton would have been at the High School by now and the two younger boys would attend North Valley Elementary. Until getting to know Bob Kelly, Scott had never had much to do with the kids from the poorer side of town. He guessed, no doubt correctly, that Colton had invited him over "for some fun" but also to introduce him to his brothers with the aim of building their vote tallies.

Scott pressed the doorbell, but the flimsy device slipped out of its bracket and quickly fell, hanging by one wire, 6 inches below where it had been. The twelve-year-old cursed in disgust. He was so glad he wasn't poor and that he lived on the proper side of town. He pounded on the door until a kid who looked about his age answered. The boy was a little taller than him at around 5 foot 2 inches (158 cm), and was dressed in cheap home-brand denim cut-offs and a plain white t-shirt. But he possessed a solid body, a strong jaw, cute face and a mop of light-brown hair that drew your attention.

"Are you Ollie?" Scott asked. "I have an appointment with your brother Colton."

The boy didn't answer but grunted loudly as he opened the door to permit entry. Then the kid noticed the broken doorbell and shoved it back to where it should have been, but didn't comment.

Scott was overwhelmed as he entered what was obviously a cramped living room. The place was in complete disarray as though a bomb had hit shortly before his arrival. The television was blaring at distortion level with an old 1960s Western. Clothes, small bikes, toys, wooden blocks, and sundry other refuse was strewn randomly about. Then there were the smells. Listing those was no easy task, but he sensed stale food, tobacco, sweaty-bodies and alcohol from a line of empty beer bottles on a side shelf. Then there was shit, the smell of excrement. His eyes followed the messages from his nose until they spotted a toddler about 2 years-old in a playpen in the corner. Clearly no one had been interested in changing the baby's diaper for some time. Then Scott became aware of the eyes upon him and he noticed all the bodies. The oldest boy, obviously Colton, had pride of place as he lay on his side on a tatty-old sofa, but there were other kids on the floor, or sharing several beanbags. They couldn't all be children of Colton Mackey Senior, could they?

"You Scott?" came a voice from the sofa. The older boy shared the same mop of light-brown hair as his younger brother, but was taller at around 5 foot 8 inches (173 cm) and he had a slightly bent nose, beady dark eyes and an unfriendly expression that created an aura of menace. He was dressed only in loose-fitting running shorts. Scott was sure he was in no immediate danger but he was now second guessing his decision to come here today.

"We'll do it in the bedroom," Colton announced without further pretense at small talk. He stood up and started walking down a short dark passage and entered a room at the end. Scott followed. The bedroom if anything looked more bomb-devastated than the living room. There were two double bunk beds along one wall and a small single bed near a wide-open window with ripped curtains. The window looked out on a depressing dirt-covered backyard without a blade of grass in sight. Fortunately, the backyard was unoccupied at present as it was clear that what remained of the shabby curtains would provide little privacy. And like the living room, the bedroom was festooned with clothes and toys in almost every available piece of floor space.

The barefooted Colton made his way carefully through the mess with practiced ease and stopped next to the end of the single bed. He picked up two pillows from a pile on the floor and place them over the wooden footboard.

"You can do me here," he announced as he pulled off his shorts and picked up a jar of Vaseline. "We ain't got no KY less you brung some youself."

The 14-year-old started applying the jelly to his asshole and rapidly pushed 2 fingers deep inside to spread the lubricant. His large, almost man-sized cock lay totally limp with a mass of very dark brown pubic hair on top and big hair-covered balls below. "I'm pretty loose already coz I got 2 fucks already today." Then he bent over the pillowed covered footboard.

"Come on. I ain't got all day."

Scott wondered again how the poor managed to live like this, but he'd consider that later. For now, he had a job to do. Seeing the 14-year-old ass on full display and awaiting his penetration, he quickly went over and stood behind the older kid. He pulled down his jeans and boxers. There was no way he was getting naked here. The thought of others seeing him doing this was not the issue. He'd lost all modesty after getting to publicly fuck Bob Kelly and a kid name Morris Harrison at last year's MAC. No, he was convinced that his clothes would be infected with fleas, or worse, if he stripped off and dropped them on the floor in this slum.

Scott wished he was bigger for a willing ass like this, but with a solid 4 and-a-half inches (almost 12 cm) he was certainly in the upper percentile when it came to penis size in his age group. He had a small but growing sprinkling of black pubes now and he'd cum for the first time just a few weeks before while fucking Bob Kelly. That had amazed both of them as Bob was still totally hairless down there and seemed years away from a wet orgasm.

He grabbed hold of the offered jar of Vaseline and applied a good quantity to his already rod of iron dick. Unlike some boys Scott had seen, he never had an issue getting an erection. And when he did, his boy-pole, like the mast on an ancient sailing ship, was always completely straight and pointed skyward. He forced it down to a more convenient angle and quickly pushed into the welcoming grip of luxury and youth. He delivered a long and satisfying groan through clinched teeth as his dick bottomed out into the older boy's well-stretched hole.

Colton's superb teen ass was a marvel to be seen. Scott looked carefully at the juncture where a tight rim of flesh was stretched around, but also gripping, the root of his hard dick. He then gave a few short, slow thrusts to watch the amazing sight of it reappearing and disappearing again into the warm flesh. The feelings springing along his shaft and deep into his body, and the comfortable sounds, almost purring, of the boy under him, propelled him back inside harder and with greater enthusiasm. Meanwhile, his hips had taken up a rhythmic pattern of thrusts into the eager ass. Scott was very pleased he had the considerable practice in the art of fucking another boy with Bob Kelly and five of the other Tailers in town. Still, he had never fucked a boy two years older than himself before and the extra buzz of dominating an older more physically powerful boy was peaking his already exaggerated sense of self-worth. It was money that ran things. That was for sure. These poor Mackey distant cousins of his might be older, have bigger muscles, and possibly were even better in school. But without a doubt, most poor boys were going to sell their asses if the price was right. And it was Scott and some of his friends that got the benefit of that rule of the real world.

Scott's thrusts relayed positive feedback that just sped up the process, until he was really pounding the teen's ass. Both boys were in motion and groaning. It was no doubt an act on Colton's part, but the 12-year-old didn't mind. The sounds drove him on.

"I can make it tighter if you like," said Colton between grunts, like some shoe salesman in an upmarket Beverly Hills store. For Colton, this was just business as usual. There was no enjoyment for him in this; he wouldn't allow himself to feel that. That would be gay, a betrayal of his sense of self-worth. No, this was something he needed to do ... for family, and to meet his father's expectations.

Scott felt the clamp-down on an in-thrust of his cock, and he finally released the pent-up dam of cum that had welled up inside. He would like to have imagined he completely flooded the rectal vault that he was still pumping, sending his sperm deeper into the belly of the totally willing kid below him. In truth his three quick spurts would leave little residue but the older boy lay there patiently and let the youngster claim him. He was wholly depleted as he finally pulled out and quickly examined the still wide-open hole. Definitely no creamy pie just yet, but that would come in time he knew. He also noted the teen's cock hadn't hardened at all, but Scott knew he couldn't complain. Colton Mackey had done all that was expected of any Tailer in Alan's Beach.

After they finished cleaning up and were dressed and back in the living room, they finally got down to business. Scott was surprised but pleased this aspect had been delayed until pleasure had been given, but now Colton spoke.

"Ollie was supposed to go into the MAC last year at 11," he said pointing at the kid who had answered the door. "But he broke his leg in some accident on his bike and couldn't go in. So's our mom and dad want him in first place this year. You understand? First place!" He stopped speaking for several seconds to allow the message to sink in.

"And that's me other brother Bret," Colton explained pointing out another boy with light-brown hair. "He's going in the 11-year-old group this year. If'n he goes break'n his leg this year like Ollie did, dad `ill kill `im. But I hear tell that you have sway over lots of the aristos at South Valley. That true?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"I also hear-tell you been givin it to Bob Kelly on a daily basis. So you like ass, eh? No problem with me. What about a two-for? You help my bros out with votes from them rich kids on the south side and you get both their asses -- no restrictions. Any fucks you give `em won't be counted in their daily totals. That's one sweet deal for a kid into boy ass, like you."

Since cumming, Scott had been wondering why he was even here in this slum. He didn't like the insinuation Colton was making about him "liking boy ass." It was true that he did, but Colton was making it sound queer. But fucking was just something wealthy kids did to keep others in their proper places. That was the way of the world -- well the way it worked in Alan's Beach at least, and that was the world as far as Scott was concerned. In the future, whether he fucked Colton, Ollie or Bret, they'd be doing it at his house. There he had the Jacuzzi, the sauna, the pool, the back garden, the games room with the billiard table, and even his own bedroom. He had fucked the other Tailers in all these places that were clean and safe. He considered whether he needed a tetanus shot after this little visit. But he knew he couldn't show weakness.

"Let me think about it. I'm getting a lot of offers for my support just now."

"Well don't ya go thinking about it too much Mr. Rich Boy. I know your old man is mayor and all, but we got other options. There's other voting blocs `sides you."

He had indeed received several such offers already and knew there were sure to be more before the actual MAC Day Ceremony held each year on the first Saturday of August in the Pavilion in the extensive grounds of the old Horace Mackey Mansion. This year that was August 4th. He was looking forward to the day and hoped he might end up with another sweetheart deal like he had last year with Bob Kelly. Admitting that now would be a show of weakness. He was prepared to be patient.

"I'll keep that in mind. I'll be in touch." Choosing his foot placement carefully, Scott navigated his way out of the house.

Mason and Levi McGill 29 Days Before The MAC

Mason McGill ran his hand across his close-cut hair. Levi had just called to say that he was on his way over. Although they were first cousins and shared the same surname, they got along more like brothers and like many boys approaching puberty, they were mostly friendly, but very competitive. Mason decided to wait for his cousin on the front porch.

The two boys were both 11, their birthdays just a day apart. Both were good at sports and got okay grades in school. But their competitive natures shone through. So far, their life had been a series of bets, dares, and competitions. Mason knew his cousin didn't shoot yet, because this year he'd lost two bets to Levi. Blowjob bets, the first time they'd ever done that. True, he'd won the third bet and got to find out how it felt, but he wished they had not gone down that path. He had lost far more of the countless bets than he had won. One of the earliest ones that he could remember occurred back when they were just five years old. He had lost a bet, and Levi took his favorite stuffed animal. A bear named Woody. He had cried, but he gave it up. Levi kept it for two nearly sleepless weeks before returning it.

Compared to his friends, Mason was well off. Not rich, not by any means, only some of the Mackey's generally laid claim to that status. But comfortable was a good way to put it. His grandfather and father had participated in MAC days back when they were his age, and both had won large prizes. He had no desire at all to participate as a contestant in that particular competition. Not his thing. But there was his cousin, and it was bets that defined their relationship. Mason knew it was time to balance the scales.

 "Okay," Ready for a bet?" he asked as soon as Levi arrived.

"Sure. What is it this time?"

"Right now, without delay, you invite two of my friends over and I do the same for two of yours. When they get here, we tell them simply that we are going to give a blowjob to the two we invited. Then..."

"Wait, you want me to blow two of your friends?" Levi questioned. "I'm not doing that."

"Do you want to hear the bet or not? Remember, I'll be doing the same with two of your buddies. That is why we get to pick who is invited." Mason needed his cousin to go for it, but he knew the thought of giving blowjobs would be a problem. He hoped the rest of the plot would convince Levi to accept the bet.

"I'm not saying okay to this yet. But go ahead and continue."

"Then we ask them to grade us on a 1-10 scale. While they are doing that, you tell me if the winner is the one with the lowest total grade or the highest."

"Then what?" Levi was still unsold. It was bad enough having to blow his cousin. Doing two of his friends would be worse.

"MAC Day is coming up in about four weeks. The loser, based on your choice of higher or lower, signs up."

"No way in hell," Levi said. "You do know what happens to the three boys who get the most votes, don't you?"

"Yeah, they become Tailers. But the loser doesn't need to try and win. Most kids would have already made their choice on where to put their vote. Without making any attempt to get votes, I don't think ending in the top three is much of a concern."

Levi had already suspected that the bet would be something along these lines. Last year as ten-year-olds they both had discussed various bets they could make. He was pretty sure his cousin must have a trick up his sleeve. "How do I know you haven't already told your friends how to score me?"

Again, Mason had a ready answer. "That is why you get to pick high score or low score for the loser, and you get to do it after we give the blowjobs. If I've already told my friends how to grade us, I might be sealing my own fate."

"Are you sure you want to take a chance? If things go wrong, you could end up becoming a Tailer and being fucked on stage." Levi couldn't see how his cousin could rig this. At best, it was an even bet with neither of them having an advantage. He wasn't sure how his own friends would score Mason's ability. Which was why his brain kept telling him not to take the bet. Something didn't make sense.

"I don't see that as being risky. We'd enter without making any attempt to gain votes. And don't forget, there are other kids there who will sign up just to get the $1,000 for entering. To me, the worst part of losing would be having everyone see me naked."

Levi thought he now understood one element of it. "But if I lose, you'll be telling your friends to vote for me. I'll get votes for sure."

"And you'll be telling your friends to not vote for you. Let's face it, you have a gift. You could sweet talk an apple into becoming an orange. And you have twice as many friends as I do. That's a real risk for me. If I lose, you'll have your friends vote to make me a Tailer."

Levi couldn't see a way that his cousin could be sure he wouldn't lose the bet. And he pictured Mason as a Tailer, where he'd be able to fuck him as often as he liked for the next three years. Unlike the 12s and 13s, boys who entered the MAC at 11 agreed to a three-year commitment. However, in the first year, there was a strict rule about who could make use of their services. No boy more than 12-months older could request their ass or mouth. That limitation increased to 2 years for the older Tailers. But Levi knew the age restriction wouldn't apply to him or Mason, as they were both the same age. He couldn't see himself losing in this bet. And even if he did, he'd get the $1,000 and be seen naked. He wasn't even sure his cousin would try to get him elected. Even if he did, he didn't have enough friends for that to happen. He thought again about being allowed, permitted, to shove his dick into Mason's butt.

"Okay, I accept," he declared. "With one addition. The loser will call upon his cousin to fuck him on stage. He can keep the cash prize for that." This idea had come to him suddenly. Mason was right, there was little likelihood that the loser would be made a Tailer. At least this way he'd get to fuck his cousin once for sure. And so, the fateful bet was settled and hands shaken to signify acceptance.

They made the calls, Mason calling two smaller friends of Levi's, hoping their size extended to other parts of their anatomy. He told them nothing except that they were to play a role in another bet and for them, it would have a favorable outcome.

After making sure his cousin didn't give any instructions, Levi did the same, calling on two of Mason's friends.

The four boys showed up within minutes of each other.

Mason took them up to his room and closed the door. "We can't tell you anything about the bet, but I am going to give a blowjob to you two," he said, pointing at Derrick and Noah. "Levi will do the same for you guys." This time he pointed to his two friends, Davy and Cliff.

The four boys all looked at each other, and then back at the cousins. This was something new, and none of them completely trusted Levi, and weren't even sure about trusting Mason.

"There's no trick," Levi stated. "The bet is between the two of us. We can't tell you anything more, or it will affect the outcome. Davy, how about if I start with you?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders. He felt very uncomfortable stripping in front of five other boys. "Could we like do it in private?" he asked.

"No, because I have to know that he doesn't tell you anything," Mason said. "But I'll start with Noah, and Cliff and Derrick can wait in the living room until we're done."

Davy was still unsure, but as the other two boys left the room, Noah began lowering his pants. Not wanting to miss out on his first blowjob, Davy did the same.

Levi had seen several of his friends naked at least once, and he knew that in general, eleven-year-old boys all looked pretty much the same. Davy was no exception. With just a few hairs around his crank and a smooth sack containing two grape-sized balls, the boy was just what he'd expected to see. He got down and began giving the worst blowjob he could imagine. He allowed his teeth to touch the sensitive pink head, and kept his tongue as far back as he could. Even given that, it only took a few minutes before the boy tensed. Like his own, the resulting orgasm was dry.

Next to them, Mason was doing an average job of getting Noah off. The boy started out hard, and was soon rocking forward, driving his dick in deeper. The room was filled with the sounds of slurping and soft moans. A few seconds after Davy was done, Noah clearly had all that he could take. He jerked forward four times. Mason was glad the kid didn't shoot yet; he wasn't looking forward to eating cum.

Once their clothing was again in place, they switched with the two boys waiting in the living room. Neither Cliff nor Derrick proved much different than the first two, and within five minutes, all four boys had enjoyed getting blown.

Mason called all four friends into the room and handed them paper and pencils.

"Score on a 1 to 10 scale how much you enjoyed the blowjob." He looked at Levi, who whispered, "High."

Levi had done such a horrible job that no boy in his right mind would score him above a 3. He expected the combined score to be no more than four.

Mason stood still, his head high as he looked up, perhaps for divine guidance. But he knew it wasn't going to be a god who answered his calling. His two friends had been told in advance that if he looked up to score his cousin's attempt high. And if he stared at the floor, they should score low.

They collected the papers from the four boys and looked at them together. Doug and Cliff had given Mason a score of 7 and 6 respectively, for a total score of 13. Levi had hoped it would be higher, but he was sure his score would be lower than that.

But his smile disappeared when he saw the scores from Noah and Derrick. An 8 from both of them, totaling 16.

"You cheated!" he yelled.

"How could I? I didn't know who you were going to call, and you got to choose high or low." Mason kept his tone friendly. He had cheated, just as he believed Levi had in a few past bets. He didn't feel particularly bad about having done it either. His cousin was now obligated to sign up for the MAC, where an even worse surprise was in store for him.

"Guys, did either of us tell you in advance how to score?" he asked the four boys. They all stated they hadn't. Mason turned to his cousin.

"Levi, I know you were worried about this bet, but I didn't cheat," he lied. "I'll, uh, let you out if you really feel that way. We can forget about the bet."

Levi knew that he had cheated twice before. The most recent time was when he got his second blowjob from his cousin. Neither of them had ever backed out of a bet they'd accepted. If he quit now, it would always allow his cousin to back out when he lost. Soon, the bets between them would end, and since he won most of them, he didn't want that. Besides, he just couldn't come up with how Mason might have accomplished cheating.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just that -- fuck it, I lost. I'll sign up tomorrow."

"Sign up for what?" Derrick asked.

When Levi didn't answer his friend's question, Mason did. "He has to sign up for this year's MAC Day Ceremony." He let that sink in for a few seconds before dropping the bombshell his cousin had added to the bet. "And he has to call on me to come up on stage and fuck him. At least he'll get some extra money for that." He had to work hard to keep the excitement at this prospect from showing on his face or in the tone of his voice.

"And you guys better not even think of voting for me," Levi hissed. But the smirks on the faces of Mason's friends should have warned him that that was exactly what they intended. And had he been even a little more perceptive, he might have noticed the wheels turning in the brains of his own two buddies, Derrick and Noah. When you are 11, going on puberty, the prospect of porking another boy, even a best friend, whenever you wanted for the next three years was not an altogether outrageous concept.

There wasn't much more to be said, so everyone headed for home. Levi didn't want to talk to his two friends right then, and he hurried on ahead of them.

Horace Mackey - Sunday April 2, 1933 -- The Library, Horace Mackey Mansion, Alan's Beach, California

Sixty-five-year-old Horace Mackey re-read the single sheet of paper for the one hundredth time. His spies had done an outstanding job in getting him an advanced copy of the soon to be announced Executive Order. But he had seen this coming even before the 1932 presidential election, when Franklin Delano Roosevelt defeated the Republican incumbent Herbert Hoover in a landslide. The early warning had provided the crusty old wildcatter time to plan. That very afternoon the final delivery was made and the consignment secured. He was satisfied with the preparations in place. Rather than an obviously expensive safe and series of alarms, Horace would rely on secrecy to hide the hoard. Best of all, he could monitor the hidden-haven himself through the labyrinth of secret passages he had had built into the house 10 years before. Not even his most trusted servant, Michael Dunn, knew about that.

Sure, he was taking a huge risk and the possible 10-year prison time was certainly out of proportion to the crime. But he'd not become one of the wealthiest men in California by picking the safe options. He had put every cent he had back in the 1890s into what others called "worthless oil leases" in Texas. Then he struck it rich as the technology improved to enable much deeper shafts to be drilled. But by the 1920s Horace Mackey had become bored with the oil business. He sold all his leases and productive oil fields and with some canny advice from the same New York stock broking firm that handled the accounts of John D. Rockefeller and Henry Clay Frick, he put most of his cash into the stock market. Horace rode that bubble into stratospheric levels until the winter of late 1928 when he started selling. He purchased tangible assets such as property in major cities on both coasts, successful businesses, iron ore, and coal and gold mines around the country. The Great Depression which started on October 29, 1929, (known as Black Tuesday) sent shock waves around the world. And the situation only got worse each year. By early 1933, it was clear that FDR was about to take the United States off the gold standard. For Horace Mackey, that surely meant imminent economic collapse. Well, he was determined to never be poor again. He put his faith, not in cash or the stock market, but in an asset whose value had stood the test of time.

His man-servant, Michael Dunn, knocked politely on the door of the library and waited.

"Enter." Horace muttered softly after several minutes. Dunn had trained his ears over the years he had worked for this old eccentric and knew his moods.

"Sir, your local lawyer, Mr. Mackey, has arrived with the papers for the Trust you're establishing to assist the poor. A very worthy endeavour in my opinion, Sir. You will be assisting many families living on the breadline. He awaits your signature, Sir."

"Thank you, Dunn. I'm pleased you like my plan. Do you think it will be popular with the... town folk?"

"I have no doubt on that score, Sir. With the economic downturn pervading the entire country, there's a lot of families hurting out there. Even in our own little community things are as bad as I've ever seen."

"Yes, Dunn, I've observed it myself. What about my idea to offer cash prizes for winners of the Choosing Ceremony. Any news on that? I'll be getting Bryce to add that as a major pillar of the trust deed,"

Yes Sir. Mr. William Landon, president of the town council rang about 10 minutes ago and would like to meet with you this afternoon, if convenient? At the meeting last night, the council unanimously agreed to extend the Choosing Ceremony to all permanent boy residents of Alan's Beach of the appropriate age. It will no longer be just a Mackey family event.  Sir, I'm told rumours of your intensions have been spreading like wildfire since the news leaked about the extremely generous prizes on offer. They say this year's Choosing will be the biggest in the history of the town. Word is, every eligible boy aged 11, 12, or 13 is trying to sign up. No need for a press-gang to marshal anyone this time."

"Good!" said Horace considering the news. "You know I never liked that name -- "The Choosing." Reminds me of our distant cousins back east. A bigger bunch of hillbillies you've never seen. I met some of them once you know."

"Yes, Sir. You have had occasion to mention that in the past."

"Perhaps someone can come up with a better name? Would you spread that suggestion Dunn?'

"Yes, Sir. I'd be happy to do so. Sir, may I speak?"

"Of course, Dunn. What is it?"

"Do you remember Calvin Boyd? One of the best Tailers in your day, I believe. You have mentioned him before. He's got eight grandsons eligible this year and he's started carving realistic boy-sized pegs for them to practice on. There is a box of five of them in different sizes, and an equivalent five in the top, with a slightly different design, for night use. Mr Boyd told me that his preparations with different size candles before his own Choosing Day made his time as a tailer a much more pleasant experience. Apparently, his own brothers had preordained his selection. The man's a gifted carver from all reports."

"Ah yes, Calvin and I had a great deal of fun back in the day. Oh, how my wild heart yearns for those happier times. Life was so much simpler then. Please let Calvin know I will pay him $10 for each set of pegs he makes. They should be distributed around the families with sons signing-up this year. But perhaps, you could arrange for one set to come here?"

"Certainly Sir. I have no doubt that Mr. Boyd will be thrilled with the news. Should I show your lawyer, Mr. Bryce Mackey, in now, Sir?"

Give me 5 minutes and then show him in. And call back Mr. Landon. Tell him I'll see him at 3:00PM."

After the man-servant left, Horace quickly re-read the single sheet of paper one last time, before consigning it to the large open fireplace that dominated the room. He watched as the paper curled at the edges and quickly burnt. For a final instant, he could still read the large print.

To be continued...