Not All Swings Are For Children…

One of My Dearest Friends Mr. Matt (who died far too young) who wasn’t just a incredible Story Teller he also had some of the best Stories I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing.

I found Myself the other evening indulging in a few too many Beers and reminiscing about My time with Mr. Matt when I realized I could help immortalize Mr. Matt’s insane Stories by Posting them.

I then realized that since its been much longer than I can comprehend since the World Lost Mr. Matt and that I’m only getting Older if I was going to help preserve Mr. Matt’s Wonderful Tales I better start soon as possible.

Thats the only malfunction of Memory is that while it helps us remember our friends and Family etc. its designed to Fade, and I can’t in good conscience let these Terrific Tales fall by the wayside to be forgotten.

Mr. Matt and I shared a common confusion when it came to kids and communication. Thats to say We both liked kids its just when it comes to talking to kids it was an exercise in awkwardness.

I think its because kids have several behavioral/emotional/intellectual stages pertaining to their age, and its hard for me to tell what phase the child is in thus how to exactly relate to it. Let me explain a bit here.

The Stages as I understand them are basically this. First the kid is a “Newborn” then it transitions into an Infant. From there Kids evolve into Toddlers, and then the kid hits some shit called “The Terrible 2s” (which means your kid is going to be a real asshole so heads up)

Then the kid hits double digits turning 10, and I have no fucking clue what so fucking ever what the fuck the “Tween Years” are or about.

Then Puberty hits the Kid like a freight fucking Train and all hell started breaking loose like a real Shit Storm. I fully believe NO ONE can actually communicate with a Teenager THEIR RAGING ASSHOLES.

So without Further A do Here is Mr. Matt’s “Not All Swings Are For Children”

It was a fine fucking day in the sweltering Great Southern Swamp and Mr. Matt and His Partner were lounging about lazily sipping cocktails as they milled idly about the house.

Now there was at the time a little girl around the age of 5 or so who lived a few houses down the street from Mr.Matt who had become utterly infatuated by Mr. Matt and His Partner. She had started a habit of leaving little tokens and presents (like little crafts, a drawing so on and so forth) on their Welcome matt outside the front door.

Well apparently the Father of said Little Girl has decided to walk over to Mr. Matt’s house with his young daughter in tow. He wanted to see if the Neighbors were ok with his kid leaving presents outside their door daily (like a fucking Cat leaving you a dead mouse to help really make your morning.)

Mr. Matt and His Partner answered the door and invited the two inside for a quick social bullshit chat. The adults were standing around in a loose triangle formation discussing the topic of the Child’s obsessive present giving.

Things were going fine as the mundane chitchat rambled on until Mr. Matt looked down and noticed the Daughter was missing having wondered off to explore the rest of his house. Mr. Matt panicked though he hid it well.

You see Mr. Matt and His Partner had a “Adults Only” room in their house shall we say, and Mr. Matt realized instantly that the normally secured door to the “Adults Only” room had been carelessly left open.

Mr. Matt raced around the house as fast as he could without raising suspicion that is, and as one would imagine he found the Child inevitably in the “Adults Only” Room looking around all wide eyed and innocent.

Mr. Matt quickly collected the Little Girl and returned with her to the Living Room were Mr. Matt continued to chat all the while wondering what the fuck the kid might say or do since her brief adventure behind the curtain as it were.

Right as the conversation is winding down and the Father and his Young Daughter get ready to leave the kid announced excitedly

“Hey Daddy, They have a SWING in Their HOUSE!!!”

The moment of silence that followed was beyond awkward as I’m sure everyone there was scrambling around in their skulls trying to think of what possibly could they say or do about this surprise situation.

At last the Father looked down at his Young Daughter and replied

“Well Lets get you home and Bleached Off.”

And that was the last time Mr. Matt or His Partner ever saw either the Father nor His Daughter ever again.

The Presents Continued until the Family finally moved out of the area 2 years later.

Thanks for Reading,

 Les Sober

Sexual Ambiguity By Spacedog

Subject Contradictions:
He takes his coat off as he slowly enters the room. A swift, precise glance of the inhabitants reveals copious laughter but their smiles are nylon. This is unamusing to him so he creeps out the back door.

He sees a child drop an ice cream cone and begin to cry.

He sees a parapelegic ringing her little bell and sitting on the sidewalk. He wonders where her wheelchair went?

He hears a train whistle but sees no tracks.

He steps in a big wad of horse shit and walks with a more pronounced anger.

Walking further down the narrow roadway, he spots a man and woman arm in arm. Every four steps or so the woman takes she gazes a loving glance at this man. The man gazes back at her but in the exact moment she looks away, he lustfully gazes at the ass of the man in front of them.

He walks down the street and wonders when his chance will be. When he will be the ass that they gaze upon. He’s a virgin though and waiting for marriage. Then he remembers that he is gay.

Wait! We can’t marry!

So he decides to take matters into his own hands. He turns around abruptly. He takes off his shirt. He is cold and his nipples harden, among other things. He walks back into the room.

I need something acceptable, he thinks. He turns his nose to the air. He smells alcohol, roses, and faint scents of sex. He walks towards those of course. He realizes it is darker in the corner of the room. Someone motions him into a doorway.

He enters the room.

Twenty minutes later…….

He’s no longer a virgin. He goes home.

Believe it or not there is a point to the story. It really has nothing to do with sex but sex gets people’s attention for the most part. All the things which are “forbidden” to us when we are children do. Sex, drugs, alcohol, crime, purposefully hurting others.

I have dabbled into all of the above. A lot of them quite often. Never all of them at the same time. You grow out of one bad habit and there is always another. We all have them. If we are defined by them and ruled by them therein lies the problem.

So I don’t care what people do in their own time. Each of the things I mentioned above have their risks and their rewards. As adults we know what they are. We still do them though. We have sex until we get the HIV or anally seep or walk a little funny. We do drugs until we have no more veins or no more teeth. We drink alcohol til we need a liver transplant and then we get a new liver and drink some more. We evade taxes, invade minors, and jaywalk. We hurt others and then we are hurt and then they are hurt and it goes around in one big limitless circle like Simba and his fuckin pathetic Circle of Life.

Then we go to church and we pray and put on our Easter bonnets and some of go home and celebrate Jesus and some the Cadburry bunny, while others still just go off and celebrate their birthday suits together. One big happy family.

Then we go feed the homeless. Then we hop a train to the city in the clothing we just bought at the Salvation Army and go panhandle.

After that we pick up our grandmother to go to bingo. She sits there contently. Dabber in one arm, flask in the other, bible in her purse. She sees another 70 year old man there, one with all his teeth, and promptly leaves you to dab balls by yourself. Apparently grandma knows a lot more about balls then you thought.

It never ends. It is eternal, it is disturbing but it’s not. We all do it. Extreme or miniscule. It exists.

“This is the biggest mistake I could think would save me. I wanted to give up the idea I had any control. Shake things up. To be saved by chaos. To see if I could cope, I wanted to force myself to grow again. To explode my comfort zone.” -Chuck Palahniuk

I have so been there. Ripping myself apart just so I could see myself bleed and try to fix things. That’s human.

And that’s why even though people are flawed to a repulsive extent, they deserve a chance in my book. Otherwise we would all be sitting alone by ourselves in caves, fleshlight in one hand (ummmm i guess dildos for all the bottoms and women out there) and a bottle of whiskey in the other. 🙂