This is not as great as Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban(?) Though it had its moments. Truth is always stranger than fiction. Yes it is slow, and just when you think something is going to happen it doesn’t, until it does.
”I am Beau, rather Beaumont, I was named by my pup 16 years ago and that time he was simply a little tyke who was fascinated by my car. In a world of farm trucks, mini vans and SUV’s I had a different car, the roof would go away at a push of a button. I had a 1969 Beaumont, which to those who care is a Canadian version of a Chevelle Malibu with a GTO interior, dash, different grill and tail lights. It was sold through Canadian Pontiac Dealers, though it was never classified as being a Pontiac. Much like me, I was in a family though I was never recognized as being part of “the family”. I digress, he was a kid who was totally fascinated and obsessed with things he didn’t know anything about. I considered him as just another loud screaming kid at a family reunion.
Now this isn’t some child porn incest story, don’t call the FBI or child services. He is my 1st cousin’s wife’s sister-in-law’s son, which makes him NOTHING in my gene pool. Trust me, when I say that pool is shallow and full of dips. He never called me anything but Beau or Bo all that weekend. It stuck. Since then everyone called me that. He just pointed at the car and me so that was it. “Bo”. ”Bo also meant red for a while too! We went our separate ways in life and so did he with his family”.
12 years pass, the family legend grows, yes I became the “rebel outlaw” who never married, though since Laramie had already been done (to death) the family decided to politely invite me for another reunion at their campsite in Eastern Washington. This was to become Mistake #473 in my life. Remember 2008? No? I do. A Reunion in July of all the family; though, from the look of some; I’d of said Manson Family but thankfully the “Princess Diana effect” was in full swing, so we got some decent looking folk in there too. Remember the first episode of CSI? The new CSI gets killed off? She is my cousin, one of them.
The bad thing about camping, people and RV’s is the lack of hot water by 10AM, which is when I decided was time to awake. That night, after everyone else was asleep I went to the shower for a nice warm wash. I walked out, into the main area to re-dress rather than try to bump my way though the puddles of foot fungus floors. There in the middle of the room was a kid of 14, holding, cradling, my towel like it was a national treasure, and I think he was sniffing it… I wasn’t expecting any company at 2AM hence; I didn’t drag my clothes in with me. So this rather tall creature with BIG gay eyes held out my towel and then put his head down. You’d think that was polite, NO, NO, NO! His eyes met with my PA and locked there. Trying to remain calm, cool and collected. TRYING. WTF? What is Bambi doing in here? I’m naked, far too well groomed-i.e. Shaved and now with this baby fag before me. This was not covered in Miss Manners’ book of etiquette. He stood there transfixed, since I am not a tranny nor “fixed” it really put me off. Kids do not turn me on, they creep me out. I knew who he was he changed a lot in height, weight and colour from almost white-blond to a medium brown hair. He was one of the little kids I’d met before, who was all-agog at my car; he was the one who called the car and I, Beau. He stammered he wanted to ask or tell me something important, right - now! He was hopping up and down by this time not with joy but sort of weird enthusiasm. (A lynch party is coming over the hill?) Nope, I would have enjoyed that. Instead he told me he was GAY – duh. He said he knew I was. What is family for but to spread news and gossip? And what should he do? First thing, step back 8 more feet PLEASE. Just in case MORE family shows up before I am dressed. Thank you!
After a very quick towel dry and dress and “stop watching me you little prick!” I told him we’d talk outside. He followed close to my heels. I did my best adult voice of: “study hard, stay in school, do not do drugs or any sort, keep your head down, excel at something and then: ”Get the hell out of that little 1 horse town! By staying in school, working hard, you may get a scholarship and go to college or university and be somebody instead of just a kid on a tractor.” I thought I got a decent speech out that made sense, 4 more years and you’d be in a city with other guys your age, blah, blah, blah. He then asked if he could see my PA again, he was already reaching for my belt when he was asking. My answer was a flat out NO! Sit! Stay! (My god that part stuck!).
Family time was finished again; I spent a good lot of time avoiding his presence. I did my duty of representing my side of the tree, our branch. I had 1 last conversation with the Icelandic-Irish-Catholic-Mormon-twink in training, repeating a lot of what I just said plus I gave him my email address, telling him to use it at school only, never at home. So as never allow his parents to know he’s ever been in contact with me. I even told him to use a new e-mail account that is never to be brought up at home. He could talk to me if he needs to but emergencies only and never print out anything I write or he writes. I also told him to read Dan Savage, and then I had to explain what Dan Savage was/is. I became his encyclopedia and reluctant pen-pal/mentor. I never once even considered what was going to be happening over the next few years.
MORE TO FOLLOW, Think of this as a bedtime story, are you asleep yet?