YOU, Quit Calling me Sissy

 I always lived in the shadow of my big cousin Keaton. He was 5 years older than me, so there should really have been no competition between us. But he was often very hostile to me. When I was three or four, he started calling me a "sissy." Later he played football in high school and worked out to develop his muscles. He started driving at 14 by getting a "family hardship" permit. I had no interest in any of the things Keaton did, preferring to read books or play by myself.

 Keaton had a friend named Warren. On a highly memorable day my parents went off somewhere and left me at my aunt and uncle's, which meant I was the target of Keaton's insults. Keaton and Warren must have been about fifteen. They made it clear that they didn't want me around. I didn't want anything to do with them either. There was big boys stuff that was uber-important to them, and I was just a nuisance, ever in-the-way with every breath I took.

 Later, looking for a safe place to hang out, I opened the door of a shed in the back yard. My eyes bugged out. I was not certain what was going on, but I felt immediately that I had made a serious mistake and that my life was about to become more miserable than ever.

 Keaton and Warren stood facing each other in the shed, half dressed and half naked. Their pants were down around their shins, white briefs hanging near their knees. Their hands were on each other's peters, apparently rubbing or massaging their bare penises, which looked very peculiar to me. What the hell was happening?

 In the split second before they jumped apart, a jet of whitish liquid sprayed out of Warren's peter.

 Keaton began to curse me, hiding his penis with both hands. He called me a "g- d- sissy" over and over again, alternating that curse with "little bastard" and "son of a bitch." He accused me of sneaking up on them on purpose. I barreled out of the shed while the older boys reached down to grab their underwear. I have to tell you, after what I had just witnessed.  I thought I was a dead man walking.

 But there's a little more to the story. Keaton got me off alone after Warren left. "You're never going to tell what you saw, are you?" he demanded, using his most threatening, bullying voice. "Never, never, never, or I will personally beat the f-ing shit out of you!"

 "You quit calling me sissy," I answered, suddenly realizing that if I handled this right, I had the upper hand in our feud for the first time. Keaton stood glaring at me for a moment. Then he turned and stalked away in a deafening silence and tantamount fury.

 There was never a word spoken of my ill-timed intrusion, or a a retaliation breach declaring their improper touch. Keaton was still a bully to me, but I never heard the word sissy again.

Anonymous