David was my only child. We lived together in a house outside of town. At this point in our lives, he was growing up no doubt. All you had to do was buy shoes for him to know it definitely. He was rambunctious as all kids are, maybe a little too competitive and rebellious, but I had grown up that way too, and it had gotten me an academic scholarship, awards and respect in my profession, mathematics. I had David when I was young. I’d like to say he was a ‘love child’, but he was more of a ‘one-night-stand child’. I was wild in my college years from time to time. It was a way to relieve the mind numbing pressure of my classes, especially after I got into graduate school.
Marrying his father was out of the question. He was slow-witted and spoiled, the typical rich kid who was the fifth generation at the university. He looked a lot more appealing when I was drunk. I still don’t regret not marrying him, even though he was rich as Croesus, especially after his father offered to pay for an abortion. The asshole was just trying to get his asshole son off the hook for child support. Now I don’t think the government has any business in it, but abortions are, in my mind, murder. Chacun à son goût. I didn’t take a dime from the jerk. Anyway, I also wouldn’t even list him on David’s birth certificate. “Unknown” is an interesting entry for a parent.
It wasn’t particularly easy, but then, as Dad always says, life isn’t easy when you make bad decisions. I struggled to get us a place to live, and I struggled to get the resources to raise David properly. Mom and Dad helped, a lot, and David and I owe a lot to them, but it was my responsibility, they were not the ones who got drunk and gave in to a sexual frenzy with a trogolyte. Sigh.
Through all this, miraculously, my academics didn’t suffer. I’ve always had a knack for mathematics and it seemed like everyone was always trying to keep up with me. I guess I owe that to Mom and Dad, too. The lab, whic did work for NASA, hired me as soon as I finished my post-graduate work about the same time David started school. Thank God I hadn’t been born a quarter of a century before, even. As it was, I was on my way.
Things sailed along with the normal family complications, child care was always a problem, but I coped. Things got more serious one day when the school called me and asked me to come in, David had been caught fighting with another boy. I wasn’t particularly busy right at that time at work, but I was pretty upset that David was intruding on my neat schedule. I arrived at the school to find David, some other boy named Henry, I did not know, and Henry’s mother, Cindy, sitting in the office. I grimaced to myself a little when I realized they were probably all waiting on me. I talked to Cindy a bit before we went into the principal’s office. She was nice. A competent type, the type person who could get anything done, and done well. I liked her.
I was stunned when the principal told me David was an ongoing problem. My first reaction was why didn’t anyone tell me? But I took a deep breath, sat a minute and thought. David and this Henry were a problem, this petty, officious bureaucrat was trying to assure they didn’t become a bigger one and upset his world further. I thought he took the easy way out suspending them, but I didn’t say anything, I listened. The ten-day suspension would intrude on my professional life, but not decisively. I was mainly concerned with launch problems and the next launch was months away. David didn’t know this when he was acting up, though, so I made a big deal of how his actions were impacting our living. Watching him, I realized I did that for nothing. He no more understood ‘making a living’ than he understood Russian literature or Quantum mechanics. So much for rational parenting.
That little fact, in the back of my mind, didn’t stop me from giving full vent to my emotions. David had to understand that his behavior was not good.
I invited Cindy over to think about the situation and pool our resources and David and I headed home. I sent David to his room without his phone, which made no impression whatever, since he played on his computer the whole time.
Cindy and Henry got there and we sat the boys in the living room while we talked in the kitchen. We were both pretty much blindsided by this incident and were still struggling for a solution. The boys started raising a ruckus and we caught them sparring again. We separated them and I asked why. David told me Henry called him ‘a son of a snitch’, which puzzled me for just a second until I remembered that I had mentioned to Cindy that Henry rolled his eyes when she made some comment. To tell the truth, I thought it was funny, and couldn’t understand how it led to a fight. It was a very clever play on words, though, don’t you think? Cindy however did not see it that way. Evidently she had a history with her son’s cleverness with words. I calmed her down and thought. Why? Why are these two boys at each other’s throat? I was hit with a thunderbolt. In elementary school, boys and girls always contended, it was a way of letting off sexual steam at that age. The more some little gentleman liked a fair lady, the more he protested he didn’t and kept teasing her. Were Henry and David working off some sexual tension? I was intrigued by that idea and immediately the solution to our problem came to me. Stereotypically, girls learn to get along with each other by their play, as do boys. Girl’s play is different from boy’s, so the best thing to do was make the boys engage in some stereotypical girl’s play. At that age, they’d be embarrassed.
I smiled and immediately set my scheme in motion. Henry’s mom took his phone as a punishment, I took the phone from her and said, “I think I’ve got a solution.” She looked at me and I told Henry to apologize to David for calling him a son of a snitch. I avoided laughing thinking that might spoil the atmosphere I needed. He promptly apologized. Me, and his mother, thought his apology insufficient and insincere. I told him to be more sincere he had to go up to David take his hand, kiss him on the cheek and apologize. The little shit liked his phone so much. I could see he was working himself up to it. I leaned over the Cindy and said, “Get out your phone and photograph this kiss, we’ll own them.”
Cindy caught on at once and by the time Henry worked himself up to do it and gave him the kiss, I got the photo on his phone, his mom got the kiss on hers. The boy’s reaction was priceless. Cindy and I played it up, threatening to post the picture on their social media, so their class could see. We moved the pictures to my phone, gave Henry his phone back, then theatrically posted them to the cloud, to let them know that there was no use getting to our phones. They looked so cute. Cindy convinced them to hold hands for a second going to the computer to look at bigger versions of the photos, and manipulated them into moving closer together then back apart, for more pictures. We were gathering quite a porfolio, and I was enjoying it. I saw David standing slumped in the doorway with his hands under his arm pits and had some sympathy for him. But, fighting is unacceptable in a civilized society so I bit my tongue.
Cindy and I took the now quiet boys to Wal-Mart and bought all the things necessary to dress little girls. Our only children were boys, so this was fun on a couple of levels. The little miscreants were less amused. I was actually in a pretty good mood by this time.
We went out to eat and ran into their teacher who was obviously astounded they were sitting quietly and eating together. I didn’t show her the pictures. She told us we could come by in the morning when she had a free period to pick up their lessons. We cheerfully agreed. She walked away a skeptical woman, and I thought it likely that she wouldn’t have approved of Cindy’s and my plan, it wasn’t politically correct, but we didn’t really care.
The next morning I called my boss and explained the situation. He was understanding, and I ended up taking my 10 days vacation at a fairly propitious time. Most parents are restricted to the summer months, so few others were on vacation. It ended up working out pretty well.
The boys looked so cute in their little shorts. Cindy had a little trouble with Henry getting him ready, but all she had to do was wave one of the blouses we had bought in his face as the alternative and he caved like a springtime avalanche in the Rockies. They looked fairly androgynous, I thought, but maybe a little feminine, going up to school, but it was good for them, it gave them a taste of what they were in for if they didn’t moderate their behavior.
Cindy had to go to work. She said her boss depended on her for everything and she had to get her temporary replacement up to speed. He balked as it was, but she subtly pointed out that he needed her and, at this time, so did her son. I suppose that comparison was lost on him, but it wasn’t on me. She had the next day at work too, but then was going to spend the next eight days with us. The potential for this being a fun, family, vacation was too much. We both were in a much better mood. Our little darlings remained in a funk, especially when I told them what they had to wear panties and girl’s clothes and any violation of my rules would cause them to be required to wear more feminine attire until they were completely dressed as little girls, lipstick, nail polish, everything.
Henry was rebellious and hated it all. David, surprisingly, went along with only a little demonstration of reluctance. I thought about this, that first day, and determined to see if I could find out what he thought of all this, really, with all the bravado he had to display given the situation, stripped away. It was an interesting game.
By the time Cindy joined us, I had them pretty well dressed in girl’s clothes. We made them wear them across town to the K-Mart to get more. I really didn’t want anyone to see them, because you can only use a nuclear option once. They were adorable, trying on clothes, looking at things we picked out for them. David, again, took to this a little better than poor Henry did. It was here, though, when Henry started to make a public spectacle, that it dawned on them, outside, in public, if they didn’t blend in, they might be outed in a spectacular way. It had dampening effect on their exuberance.
We got their ears pierced. David cried. He looked so cute in his pearl earrings and tears running down his face. I decided to be harsh and told him that little girls get their ears pierced all the time. Henry just looked stubborn and, I thought, not as cute as David. But, like most kid’s tears, they dried up pretty quickly and they were both quiet on the way home. Cindy and I laughed when they begged us not to take them to eat at the pizza parlor, which they would have begged to go to, before. I docked them a point for begging. That may have been a little much on my part, it wouldn’t have dawned on them that begging not to go was just as annoying as begging to go, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have them thinking they might be dealing with a crazy woman, either.
They kept losing points, and, as predicted, wound up in a fairly short time in lipstick, nail polish, skirts, girl’s shoes, frilly blouses, necklaces, bracelets and those cute earrings. We had tea parties with our dolls, all sorts of little girl games I enjoyed as a child. It was fun for half of us. We even took them on a road trip dressed in their finery. We went to Six Flags and they stuck to us. It was a pleasure. Normally, I had to constantly watch David and keep looking for him as he ran off. This trip, he stayed by his Mommy. I loved it, to be fair.
The ten days went by in a flash. The last day we had a graduation tea party with all our dolls and they looked absolutely precious in their petticoats and best dresses and cute socks and patent leather shoes. Henry remained a little truculent, but he had gotten used to things too, and he realized as long as he went along, we were not going to exercise the nuclear option. David’s mannerisms were a little different. He made sure his dress was smooth and seemed a little concerned that the photo caught him at his best. I caught on. I hadn’t been paying any attention to the little guy at all, becoming immersed in my work, ignoring him, treating him like a problem instead of an asset. The poor kid. It was pretty obvious what was really going on when I made them kiss, I realized he wasn’t nearly so opposed to the idea as he tried to let on. I made Henry kiss him on the lips and I could tell he didn’t mind it. After that I was a little harsher on the points and had them kissing and apologizing a little more than was strictly necessary for the rules of the game. He looked so cute trying to pretend he didn’t want to.
I thought about it. They’d given me an offer for an administrative post at work that they gave everyone who could walk, talk and chew gum at the same time. Hardly anyone accepted one of these, but it had the attraction of regular hours and weekends off. I resolved to take it. David deserved it. How could I have missed so much of his growing up? And the answer was by not paying attention. When we were sitting on the sofa that last night, before he had to go back to school, I assured him that I would pay attention to him, from then on. And I have, he’s so cute dressed up anyway, how could I not love it?
I’m up to my ass in alligators at work one day, when I get a call that my son has been caught in a fight with another student, and, I can tell you I almost lost it. My boss took up most of my time. He was like a kid. He couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel, as the expression goes. That asshole I married left me before Henry was born and I had done my best, really, but he was a handful.
He just liked to get into trouble. My mom told me it’s just that he wants attention, but I pay attention to him. Oh maybe not as much as work, and maybe I am a little tired to put up with his bull shit in the evening. Ok. So maybe I don’t pay him enough attention. Believe me between him and my boss I haven’t got enough attention.
I get up to school and I have to wait on the other kid’s mother. She works at the space laboratory in town and had to come all the way. I understand, but it was still annoying. Her kid is cute and he, and Henry, sat there trying to act like well-behaved children, which Henry is not. I decided to reserve judgment until I knew more, but Henry is my favorite for the culprit in all this. The kid’s mother gets there and we have a couple of seconds to get acquainted. She is very attractive, her name is Emily, and she is as pissed as I am. The principal suspends them for ten days! How am I going to get off work? Emily says come over to her house and we can figure out what to do. I take the monster over to their place, a little further in the country than our apartment, not trusting myself to talk to Henry. Emily and her son, David, were waiting. We’re not there five minutes until the boys, as soon as they’re left alone, are fighting. It seems my little angel called her little angel a “son of a snitch”, which pissed me off no end. Here I am leaving work I needed to do so my little asshole can make clever jokes. I swear I was gong to rip him limb from limb this time, but Emily stopped me.
She’s a genius. She got Henry to kiss her son under the pretext of apologizing sincerely to him for calling him the name. She told me to get it in a picture, and she got one on Henry’s phone. Before the dust all settles, she has the pictures in this cloud thing where they can’t be erased and the boys are being a lot quieter. I got a couple of pictures of them holding hands which I got them to do with that old trick, you know the one, just do a little more for me and perhaps I’ll forgive everything. Those went into the cloud too. We owned the little motherf… Hell, I can’t say that, or bastards without commenting on myself. Assholes, I guess assholes will have to do.
Emily devised this game where if they screwed up they had to wear more and more girl’s stuff, clothes, makeup, everything, as they accumulated points for being assholes. Within a couple of days they were all dressed up. They looked really cute in a tomboyish kind of way. They had to play with dolls and have tea parties and everything. It turned into a hoot. We went to Six Flags and they were little angels.
I still have Henry’s wardrobe. I show it to him sometimes when he is a big asshole and he straightens right up. It turned into a pretty fun ten days, but I was a couple of months digging out of the mess my boss and that bozo temp made. Ah well. It was worth it.
That little faggot David kissed me on the playground and ran away laughing. I caught up with him, and started beating his ass. The teacher caught us fighting and we were both suspended ten days.
So then I have to go over to the little faggot’s house and I can’t explain anything for obvious reasons and my Mom and his Mom make us wear girl’s clothes for the whole suspension. We had to kiss, too. How was that punishing him? How was it fair? I didn’t turn into a fag by kissing him, like I thought I might, so that’s something. But it still wasn’t fair. I tell you one day he is going to go too far. I'd like to ram my dick in his mouth and fuck his ass to teach him, the little faggot. I don’t guess that will make me a fag too, if kissing the little faggot didn’t. You could tell he liked it when he kissed me, but not as much as when I kissed him. Gross.