No Thanks For The Advice

   I was walking along the fence line with Tom, my 5th grade friend, pushing our bikes as the sun went down, orange on our faces. Sillohoutting the landscape was a young man abour 16 to our ten.
He was like a Cusack, knowing some things about “the ladies.”

     Yeah right. Like I was ready. Tom said to the much older boy, “Show ’em what you got, Lenny.”
Lenny unzipped and there was the tool of the trade in all its wonder.
Bigger than what we had. Geez. He zipped back up and said, “Yeah, I think I’m going to get some tail tonight with Mary  or her sister… maybe both.”

      Us kids, we were exposed. But indecent? Well, gosh, the guy was such a knuckle head. He was proliferating his promiscuity and would tell ridiculous stories where he had to flee commando from a tutorial. I never felt inflicted with harm in it. He was a TMI braggart fornicater teen boy. Ha!

    What a weird memory. I thought I’d share it. He was kind of a cartoon character. Inert. A nerd. A psuedo-jock.


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