Read Online Sissy Godiva by Mykola Dementiuk - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mykola Dementiuk
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Sophie, the Polish cashier from the diner crouched at her side. It turned out Sophie’d been working late and had gone out onto the sidewalk to see the fire, then saw her son being carried out. Sissy’s real name was Joseph, or Joey, I remembered. Sophie sneered at me as if I’d caused the fire.
“ Matka Boza ,” she said over and over, now and then glaring at me and mumbling curses in Polish until they took Sissy off in an ambulance.
I finally managed to get Mom enough off me so I could sit up and watch the firemen. They were going in and out, and two fire hoses streamed into our building’s top floor. I learned later that the fire had started on our floor, in Pips’ apartment. The firemen said the fire had started in the bathroom, where they’d found an old man naked. He’d been smoking, and had dropped his cigarette onto some greasy towels; they’d smoldered, then caught. The old man had inhaled too much smoke and they couldn’t save him. Asphyxiation, they called it, choked to death. And they’d found a big-breasted, black transvestite passed out on the bed and pulled her out in time. Poor Pips. They buried him in a pauper’s grave somewhere in Long Island, but I always wondered if he’d died holding onto his dick. At least it had made him happy.
They took me to Bellevue along with Sissy and Tonya, but we went in separate ambulances and didn’t see each other while we were there.
They kept me overnight and let me go the next day; my breathing was good enough by then. We weren’t allowed back into our apartment until late that day. The smell of smoke stayed for weeks.
“All faggots in that building,” I heard strangers say as they passed our building after the fire. “Yeah, must be a cool, hot place.” They smirked as they went their way.
The summer’s heat eased and the days got cooler. And the cool weather brought out the neighborhood boys. They taunted and jibed at me whenever they saw me, calling me sissy names and hissing and throwing out kisses. They’d heard about the fire and how some naked faggot had carried a naked sissy boy down the stairs. I always squirmed. But I didn’t know why.
“Carry me out, too, you sissy,” they shouted. Kid Paulie, who’d wanted me to set him up with Sissy, was the bitterest of the lot when I ran into him in Tompkins Square Park.
The fall and winter went by and summer came again. I was stealing my way through the Lower East Side, trying to avoid all the bullies when a vaguely familiar voice said behind me, “long time no see, eh, Vinnie?”
I turned and saw a young lady in a short skirt and a Vneck blouse that showed off her flat bosom. She winked and smiled at me. I almost shot off in my pants. It was Sissy Godiva!
“My God, is that you?” I cried, going up to her. “Haven’t seen you in months!”
She laughed. “The one and only,” she said, pulling her hand away from mine and reaching for a cigarette. “How you been, sweetie?”
I shrugged. “Surviving, but a lot of good that does me,” I looked her up and down. “Looks like you’re doing pretty good, yourself.”
“What, this?” she exclaimed, glancing down at herself. “I gotta look good when I go to work,” she said. “I work now, and they think Josephine is a girl’s name, which I suppose it is. A girl is what I’ve always wanted to be, anyway, so it worked out very nicely, don’t you think?”
“Wow, that’s great,” I said. “But you always dressed up so pretty, man, you were hot! I mean, as a girl you were.” I blushed. “What kind of job is it?”
“Oh, boring dumb secretarial work. It was pretty good at the start but now all I do is type and yawn all day.” She mimed a wide yawn. “And I make too many mistakes,” she shrugged, then giggled and took my hand.
“Been there long?”
“Nah, about two weeks. Think they’ll get rid of me any day now, anyway, it’s too stupid and boring,” she yawned for real this time. “Plus I don’t think they don’t like
“ Matka Boza ,” she said over and over, now and then glaring at me and mumbling curses in Polish until they took Sissy off in an ambulance.
I finally managed to get Mom enough off me so I could sit up and watch the firemen. They were going in and out, and two fire hoses streamed into our building’s top floor. I learned later that the fire had started on our floor, in Pips’ apartment. The firemen said the fire had started in the bathroom, where they’d found an old man naked. He’d been smoking, and had dropped his cigarette onto some greasy towels; they’d smoldered, then caught. The old man had inhaled too much smoke and they couldn’t save him. Asphyxiation, they called it, choked to death. And they’d found a big-breasted, black transvestite passed out on the bed and pulled her out in time. Poor Pips. They buried him in a pauper’s grave somewhere in Long Island, but I always wondered if he’d died holding onto his dick. At least it had made him happy.
They took me to Bellevue along with Sissy and Tonya, but we went in separate ambulances and didn’t see each other while we were there.
They kept me overnight and let me go the next day; my breathing was good enough by then. We weren’t allowed back into our apartment until late that day. The smell of smoke stayed for weeks.
“All faggots in that building,” I heard strangers say as they passed our building after the fire. “Yeah, must be a cool, hot place.” They smirked as they went their way.
The summer’s heat eased and the days got cooler. And the cool weather brought out the neighborhood boys. They taunted and jibed at me whenever they saw me, calling me sissy names and hissing and throwing out kisses. They’d heard about the fire and how some naked faggot had carried a naked sissy boy down the stairs. I always squirmed. But I didn’t know why.
“Carry me out, too, you sissy,” they shouted. Kid Paulie, who’d wanted me to set him up with Sissy, was the bitterest of the lot when I ran into him in Tompkins Square Park.
The fall and winter went by and summer came again. I was stealing my way through the Lower East Side, trying to avoid all the bullies when a vaguely familiar voice said behind me, “long time no see, eh, Vinnie?”
I turned and saw a young lady in a short skirt and a Vneck blouse that showed off her flat bosom. She winked and smiled at me. I almost shot off in my pants. It was Sissy Godiva!
“My God, is that you?” I cried, going up to her. “Haven’t seen you in months!”
She laughed. “The one and only,” she said, pulling her hand away from mine and reaching for a cigarette. “How you been, sweetie?”
I shrugged. “Surviving, but a lot of good that does me,” I looked her up and down. “Looks like you’re doing pretty good, yourself.”
“What, this?” she exclaimed, glancing down at herself. “I gotta look good when I go to work,” she said. “I work now, and they think Josephine is a girl’s name, which I suppose it is. A girl is what I’ve always wanted to be, anyway, so it worked out very nicely, don’t you think?”
“Wow, that’s great,” I said. “But you always dressed up so pretty, man, you were hot! I mean, as a girl you were.” I blushed. “What kind of job is it?”
“Oh, boring dumb secretarial work. It was pretty good at the start but now all I do is type and yawn all day.” She mimed a wide yawn. “And I make too many mistakes,” she shrugged, then giggled and took my hand.
“Been there long?”
“Nah, about two weeks. Think they’ll get rid of me any day now, anyway, it’s too stupid and boring,” she yawned for real this time. “Plus I don’t think they don’t like
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