Reduction Boys

Note: In the tradition of Patricia Highsmith and her one paragraph short stories

Reduction Boys

Once upon a time there was a funeral for all the world to see. there was a church downtown that arched and arched all the way and up into the sky. It was a stone cold brick church and it was very serious inside and out. At the back of that church stood five stinking punks. the five stinking punks made Clydesdales noises with their boots. Clomping and huffing noises like horses. they were not allowed to “bride the pews” as Needle Dick whispered to nobody but the half smoked cigarette above his left ear. the Deacon stopped them before they walked inside before. He had been greeting all the clean and well kempt members of society coming around to mourn a dead boy. the Deacon told Needle Dick to put out his smoke. that they, the stinking punks, could stay for the services but none of them could come view the body dressed the way they were. Needle Dick made “steam with my butt in the holy water” as he would later relay to Wandjina, the hot Australian babe, fresh in town, who Needle Dick was desperately trying to get a good and proper gander at her hot fresh knockers. He had heard, from everyone who knew her, that she had a sweet set of high beams. Newby said he sucked her nips the second she flew in and that they were “as hard as jet lagged rocks” that he had chipped his tooth, but everyone knew that Newby was a liar and not only that, he didnt have a broken tooth. And not only that, but how hard can nips be? Rock hard, so hard they break teeth? And jet lagged nips? Unlikely. “What do you want us to wear, a fucking tuxedo, Jesus guy?” Needle Dick had said. “No, just stay in the back, please.” Pencil Dick recognized the Jesus guy, the Deacon. “Didn’t I suck your dick?” the Deacon screamed, “No!” Pencil Neck knew him, “yes sir! you got a bender! I remember!.” the Deacon pulled his hands up to his chest. He seemed like he was going to punch Pencil Dick. the stinking punks braced themselves, they looked like wet cornstarch. If only the Deacon would punch Pencil Dick, they would love it and it would be good, great even, because they would have loved to be violent. “Don’t spread rumors!” Pencil Dick laughed, “Now, I totally remember! you pulled out before you came and the fucking load slung around like one of those whistle fire crackers and hit me in the back of the head like a boomerang! How can I not remember that? you still owe me five bucks, man!” the Deacon ran away. “that fucker owes me five bucks!” the five stinking punks stomped into the very serious church made up of very serious stones and very serious bricks. the Deacon, embarrassed, angry, startled, started talking about their friend abstractly. Ashes to ashes, et cetera. When he looked down at the body, from the church podium, the Deacon saw the face of a young boy who he had placed his erect bent penis inside of his mouth many times in an alleyway downtown. the Deacon stuttered. He gripped the edge of the podium and coughed. the microphone squealed and then cut out. a fuse broke is what happened. Pencil Dick yelled, “Captain Hook!” the five stinking punks ran down the bridesway, thinking they would grab the coffin and deliver it elsewhere, take Bongo, the poor dead boy, to the river or something and give him a Viking burial or something, but when they got to the stage a group of very large and very straight laced men stood like football men. the five stinking punks turned around and ran back out the serious church door. as loud as horses. the straight laced football men chasing them up the bridesway and out onto the church lawn. the five stinking punks ran in five different directions with five different ideas of safety. Needle Dick would later tell Wandjina, the girl with the amazing, jet lagged tits that, “I could have fucked them up, if I wanted to, but I didn’t because the cops would have come and that would have sucked.” His twin brother, Pencil Dick, was sitting next to them, on a couch that smelled like urine, in a house that smelled like burnt hair, cigarette smoke and carpet. He scoffed and stood up to use the bathroom. “Don’t listen to the idiot.” Inside the bathroom he locked the door. He put the toilet lid down and sat on top of it. On the bathroom wall the words “Bongo Does Anal” were written in black marker. Pencil Dick started crying.