scenarios, scarfing a cowflop was marginally superior to a strange, smelly man’s hairy ass cheeks ripping a wet grunter in their faces.
“It’d singe your eyebrows off,” Kent said to appreciative laughter. “It’d put a center part right down your hair!”
“What would you rather,” newton said, “give a speech in front of the whole school or get your bathing suit sucked down the filter at the public pool?”
ephraim groaned. “oh, for fuck’s sake, newt, that’s so laaaaaaame. ”
“Yeah, but,” newton mumbled, “you’d be naked, right? Your bum hanging out.”
“Your bum ?” ephraim scoffed. “Your bum, really? Your pink little tushie?”
ephraim pulled a cigarette out of his pack, along with a brass Zippo. He fixed the smoke between his lips and lit it with an elaborate flourish: drawing the Zippo up his thigh, popping off the lid, then swiftly running it down again, sparking the flywheel on his trousers. He touched the flame to the tobacco, inhaled, and said:
“nothing like a smoke when you’re stuck out in nature.”
ephraim was the only boy in their grade who smoked. A recent affectation. He bought them in singles—four, five cigarettes at a time— from a high schooler named ernie Smegg, whose doughy carbuncled face looked like a basket of complimentary dinner rolls.
“You smoke the wrong way,” Kent said. “You’re holding it all wrong.”
“What?” ephraim said. He pinched the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger, the way you’d hold a pipe. “What’s the matter?”
“my dad says only Frenchmen smoke like that,” said Kent. “And fags. ”
ephraim’s jaw went stiff. “Shut your big fucking mouth, K.”
“You shouldn’t smoke,” newton said fussily. “my mom says it turns your lungs black as charcoal briquettes.”
ephraim’s chin jutted. “Yeah? Your mother’s so dumb she stares at an orange juice carton all day because it says: concentrate. ”
“Hey!” Kent barked, bristling. “Don’t rag on his mom, man.”
ephraim snorted but eventually said, “Sorry, newt. So what would you rather: jerk off a donkey or fingerbang Kathy rhinebeck?”
Kathy rhinebeck was a sweet girl who’d been branded the class slut due to the rumor—unsubstantiated by anyone aside from Dougie Fezz— that she’d masturbated Dougie Fezz “to climax” in the back row of the north Point Cinema. Christ on a bike, she didn’t know what the hell she was doing, Fezz told a gaggle of pop-eyed boys in the school yard, his tone one of withering scorn. What, was she yanking weeds out of a garden?
“What’s a fingerbang?” newton asked, predictably.
“I’d jerk off the donkey,” Shelley suddenly said. “Who wants sloppy seconds?”
This, the boys silently acknowledged, was precisely the sort of response you could expect from Shelley longpre—he had this way of sucking the air out of the game; out of any game really.
They hiked in silence around the eastern hub of the island. The trail deteriorated until it was nothing but a strip of loose shale edged by chickweed and stinging thistles. It led around a rocky outcropping facing out over the gunmetal sea.
“This the way?” newton asked.
“Where else?” Kent said challengingly. “Tim didn’t send us on a granny walk.”
They worked their way up. The shale sat upon a base of solid granite holding the same pink hue of the outcropping. loose stones kept pebbling away under their boots. The path—which had seemed quite solid at the outset—soon became a series of treacherous collapsing footfalls.
And it soon narrowed at the midpoint of their ascent. They could barely crowd both their feet together on it. Below them lay a steep slope carpeted with the same soft shale. It was not so sheer that they risked free falling, but steep enough that they would slide painfully down, boots pumping and hands clawing for purchase. If they couldn’t stop in time, they’d hit the cold, gray sea.
ephraim said: “Whose smart idea was this again?”
“It’d singe your eyebrows off,” Kent said to appreciative laughter. “It’d put a center part right down your hair!”
“What would you rather,” newton said, “give a speech in front of the whole school or get your bathing suit sucked down the filter at the public pool?”
ephraim groaned. “oh, for fuck’s sake, newt, that’s so laaaaaaame. ”
“Yeah, but,” newton mumbled, “you’d be naked, right? Your bum hanging out.”
“Your bum ?” ephraim scoffed. “Your bum, really? Your pink little tushie?”
ephraim pulled a cigarette out of his pack, along with a brass Zippo. He fixed the smoke between his lips and lit it with an elaborate flourish: drawing the Zippo up his thigh, popping off the lid, then swiftly running it down again, sparking the flywheel on his trousers. He touched the flame to the tobacco, inhaled, and said:
“nothing like a smoke when you’re stuck out in nature.”
ephraim was the only boy in their grade who smoked. A recent affectation. He bought them in singles—four, five cigarettes at a time— from a high schooler named ernie Smegg, whose doughy carbuncled face looked like a basket of complimentary dinner rolls.
“You smoke the wrong way,” Kent said. “You’re holding it all wrong.”
“What?” ephraim said. He pinched the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger, the way you’d hold a pipe. “What’s the matter?”
“my dad says only Frenchmen smoke like that,” said Kent. “And fags. ”
ephraim’s jaw went stiff. “Shut your big fucking mouth, K.”
“You shouldn’t smoke,” newton said fussily. “my mom says it turns your lungs black as charcoal briquettes.”
ephraim’s chin jutted. “Yeah? Your mother’s so dumb she stares at an orange juice carton all day because it says: concentrate. ”
“Hey!” Kent barked, bristling. “Don’t rag on his mom, man.”
ephraim snorted but eventually said, “Sorry, newt. So what would you rather: jerk off a donkey or fingerbang Kathy rhinebeck?”
Kathy rhinebeck was a sweet girl who’d been branded the class slut due to the rumor—unsubstantiated by anyone aside from Dougie Fezz— that she’d masturbated Dougie Fezz “to climax” in the back row of the north Point Cinema. Christ on a bike, she didn’t know what the hell she was doing, Fezz told a gaggle of pop-eyed boys in the school yard, his tone one of withering scorn. What, was she yanking weeds out of a garden?
“What’s a fingerbang?” newton asked, predictably.
“I’d jerk off the donkey,” Shelley suddenly said. “Who wants sloppy seconds?”
This, the boys silently acknowledged, was precisely the sort of response you could expect from Shelley longpre—he had this way of sucking the air out of the game; out of any game really.
They hiked in silence around the eastern hub of the island. The trail deteriorated until it was nothing but a strip of loose shale edged by chickweed and stinging thistles. It led around a rocky outcropping facing out over the gunmetal sea.
“This the way?” newton asked.
“Where else?” Kent said challengingly. “Tim didn’t send us on a granny walk.”
They worked their way up. The shale sat upon a base of solid granite holding the same pink hue of the outcropping. loose stones kept pebbling away under their boots. The path—which had seemed quite solid at the outset—soon became a series of treacherous collapsing footfalls.
And it soon narrowed at the midpoint of their ascent. They could barely crowd both their feet together on it. Below them lay a steep slope carpeted with the same soft shale. It was not so sheer that they risked free falling, but steep enough that they would slide painfully down, boots pumping and hands clawing for purchase. If they couldn’t stop in time, they’d hit the cold, gray sea.
ephraim said: “Whose smart idea was this again?”
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