This story was inspired by Teek’s story by the same name.

Timmy was sitting on the school bus on his way to his Middle School. Next to him, Betty, his bestest friend in the whole world was prattling about her afternoon tryout for the cheerleading squad. Timmy wasn’t really listening. Timmy was no Tiny Tim. If not exactly bigger than all the other boys in his class, he was taller than most. And if he was lean what was there was mostly bones, sinews and muscles. He very much resembled his father and grandfather at his age. Grandfather had played pro football. Unfortunately he had to retire due to injuries after one season. Timmy’s father had been the big football hero in the high school Timmy was to attend in a few years. The father had gone on to play college football, though only for one year.

With friends like these, who needs enemies?

My friends from middle school took advantage of my absence from high school the first days.

And now for something completely different. Actually, it was my latest story, Death in Venice Beach, that was something completely different. This is more the normal me; short, cute and twisted (I’m only 1.64 m tall).

UNETHICAL?

I was relieved when Larry and the head cheerleader drifted apart. I should have been concerned when Bob asked Larry for a date. The truth was that I was just too curious to see what would happen I just aided and abetted instead. Larry was even lovelier that night. They left and about a minute to midnight I heard Bob’s car drive up again. Of course I had prepared an unobtrusive view of the porch. Yes, there was a good-night kiss. Not a bad one. Really not a bad one.

I had expected Larry to get into trouble at the studio with his lilac tights. Just shows how clueless I am. The teacher loved that Larry wore lighter color tights. That allowed him to see better how Larry’s leg muscles worked. Black really isn’t a good color to wear in class but tell that to teen boys who already are body conscious. And, of course, the girls in his class loved it even more now that they got a better look at his quite nice legs. Good thing for Larry that he already had a girlfriend. Otherwise he’d have been under siege.

The next day the same three girls invaded the house once more. There was one addition this time. Peter, the geekiest geek imaginable and the closest thing to friend that Larry had had before, had joined them. Peter also wore the very short lilac pleated skirt. And I noticed he had shaved legs. Very recently, and not expertly, shaved legs by all signs.

I confess that I was worried when I sent Larry away to school for the first time in his new short lilac pleated skirt. I was concerned even if his big sister had confirmed everything he had said. Betty had the full inside story. It was really a senior social studies project. Bob, the captain of the baseball team had decided to write a paper on influencing and peer pressure. He had secretly roped in the rest of the team and some other to help him. Could he get the boys in the school to wear a short pleated lilac skirt?

When my youngest, Lawrence (or more usually Larry), began high school I was not surprised that he had problems. Not scholastically. Larry is a bright boy. No, the thing about Larry is that he is “odd”. I can’t describe it better than that since I haven’t been able to pin it down better myself. There is nothing tangible. He doesn’t look funny in any way. No big nose or limp or anything like that. He’s not a macho boy but in no way girly (even if some would characterize his love for ballet as girly, which anybody that had seen him on stage would know is a mistake). He’s just “odd”.

I blame it all on dad. He was a glutton. He ate himself to death.

I want to make some things perfectly clear.
First of all, I NEVER said I was a girl.
I was not girly in any way.
I wasn’t petite. I’m slightly above medium height (male).
I did not have long flowing golden locks. Not exactly short but certainly not long.
I was not a social outcast. Actually, I was quite popular in school and did honor list (though not potential Valedictorian) well in school.

With a title like this, it shouldn’t be a surprise that I was inspired by a recent blog post (Ecc. 1:9)

As in all single-sex schools the boarding school I went to faced the problem when setting up the annual school play that most plays usually have both male AND female parts.

I and the rest of us in Drama class waited for the Drama teacher to allocate the parts. I surreptitiously loosened my tie. I hated my school uniform and in particular that noose.

….
“and finally for the leading lady, the sexy seductress Veronica, I want Peter.”

This is not a contest entry.
I possibly could have worked in a New Year resolution but there is NO way I could fluff up this fluff to 2500 words. (Let’s see if I can make that stick THIS time.)

Last week I met my old friend Larry. He was in love. I suppressed an inner sigh. Larry often fell in love and then out again just as quickly. Always very chaste. He really was a 40-year-old virgin. He had very fixed ideas about the object of his love(s). One was that he never wanted to see them nude. And then he had this tendency to fall for the wrong ones.

First day of Fall semester 2022
I don’t like when people call our town racist. I mean it’s only natural that we whites call the shots since we are the majority, 51% of the population, with the rest more or less evenly divided between beaners and nig… blacks. I almost forgot that you can’t use the N word unless you’re one. It’s not like we’ve had any cross burnings in years. We even have … blacks on our high school football and basketball teams. You know, they’re like genetically predisposed for that. Not any beaners though, they are pathetically useless both in sports and academically. Excepting Pablo of course. With a pitcher like that they couldn’t keep him off the team. Not that the baseball team is of any importance anyway. The few chinks, like Sissy, are terrible gunners and of no consequence socially. Sissy is not really her real name but who can pronounce that?

I was a teenage girl pop star.

This is a sequel to Summer Girl. The reason I’ve written one of my rare sequels is not because I had an unused twist littering my brain. I just wanted to pursue the relationship. Well, that was how it started anyway. Then started writing. Regardless of how the second part of the story developed it definitely is a spoiler for Summer Girl.

I never did go to the homecoming dance with Hank.

Tom, Dick and I, Harry had been best friends since primary school. How we had been teased for our names over the years. We stuck together through middle and high school. We hung out together. Got into trouble together. Somehow Tom always managed to extricate himself and I managed to shield Dick from the worst consequences. In high school we usually triple dated. We also stood together against the bullies. We were unfortunate in that we were considered to be “cute” in a girly way. Unfortunately that also invited some unwanted attention from the gay community. We weren’t. Gay that is.

Of course it’d have to be on a “Take your daughter to work day” that we visit this factory. Of course, for me every day is “Take your daughter to work day.” I’m surrounded by small and big girls eager to ask me lots and lots of questions while my mother does what presidential candidates do. I hate having to participate in my mother’s campaigning but that’s Mother for you. Whatever can be useful not only can be used but MUST be used.

I don’t know exactly when I started loving Paula. Probably it was a slow process. We had been friends since we were toddlers. As the years went on Paula bloomed into a very beautiful girl. We both got scholarships to a very good high school. She was very popular in school. She was a great athlete. She was very competitive. I wasn’t. Not popular, not competitive. not an athlete. Not that I was an outcast or anything like that but I wasn’t exactly one of the IN crowd. Surprisingly Paula kept being my friend. We studied together in the evenings and so on. The problem was that I wanted us to be boyfriend and girlfriend. That was a constant pain that I was too afraid to do something about. As it turned out I was right in thinking that we’d never become boyfriend and girlfriend.

I grew up in a smallish town in one of the Prairie states. The town has about 50 000 inhabitants. It was quite a straight town. The straws in the surrounding wheat fields were straight. The plough furrows were straight. The edges of the fields were straight as were the roads separating them. The roads just kept on going straight on until they disappeared beyond a horizon unobscured by hills, mountains or forests. In town the streets were straight and the blocks square. To be honest the people were straight and square as well. Even my sister’s flushes were straight.

Sometimes I hate being the only boy in the girls’ locker room. Usually that coincides with my fellow cheerleaders deciding to tease me. Not verbally, visually, in the showers. That can be quite annoying. Not that I get any help from the girls’ coach either. She just smiles and say that I have no one but myself to blame.