Houston, TX 1972: Junior was flying high again, Mushmouth Shoutin’ by Z.Z. Top blared from the Mustang’s 8 track tape deck as it roared across three lanes at 75 mph, merging onto I-610 and narrowly missing a Caddy with Bat-mobile fins filled with blue hairs from Beaumont.
The prodigal son was returning from yet another long weekend south of the border. The Bolivian marching powder was kicking in again and the kid was beating the red-eyed monster back with whiskey and beer. Soon he would be back home and he would be able to sleep it off for a few days and to get his system cleaned up just in time to report for guard duty where he would heroically fly a desk for the weekend.
He had been reminiscing about Matamoros where he had spent several days engaged in the type of drunken debauchery that you just couldn’t find in America, even if he was a child of wealth and privilege. That sumbitch, high hatted father of his would go off on another rant about Junior being a god damned disgrace and a drunken embarrassment that would ruin his nascent political career. The booze and cooze were both cheap and plentiful and daddy’s spies weren’t everywhere like they were in Big H. Junior liked getting his groove on south of the border and took off whenever time allowed. He headed to Mexico for the type of cheap, kinky and degenerate sex with underage girls that the old man just wouldn’t think was cool if he were to stay around the homestead. His dick would practically point the way as he would make the run for the border…and he wasn’t going for any fucking enchirito…no sir, he was going for the all you can eat hair-taco buffet. The entertainment was boss as well, the strippers performed live lesbian sex acts on stage with dildos and the works and for a few pesos they would give him the private show back at the hacienda. Junior also really dug the fabled donkey show…and it was just fucking amazing how big it’s dick was.
“YEEEEE-FUCKING-HAAAAAAWWW!” roared Junior as he knocked back another belt of Wild Turkey draining the pint bottle and hurling it into the back seat which elicited a sick thud, he slammed his fist down on the ‘stang’s dashboard, “FUCKIN’ PARTY”…. There was a groan and then a pudgy, bespectacled figure clambered over the passenger seat, rolled down the window and stuck his head out, making violent retching noises”
“Jesus Christ Turdy….ya jist can’t take it with the big guys kin ya?”
‘Turdy’ was Junior’s sidekick, inseparable was he from the young scion’s side.
Little did Junior know, but Turdy had serious longings for him, he wanted nothing more than to saddle up on the baloney pony but he dared not to ever reveal the fact that he was a closeted homosexual which was a big NO-NO in those days, especially in the Lone Star state where they still dragged such folks down the street on a rope tied to the tailgates of their pickups.
The controversial Academy Award winning movie Midnight Cowboy left a lasting imprint on Turdy’s psyche, he had become so uncontrollably horny during the scene where a young Bob Balaban blew Jon Voight’s Joe Buck in a Times Square movie theater that he actually walked out, he was not alone as moviegoers in 1969 Ft. Worth, TX were shocked and horrified at the film’s lurid content, most of them diehard Baptists unbelieving at the incomprehensible sins being splayed out in 70 mm on the screen in front of them. In abandoning his seat during one of the first graphically displayed man on man sexual encounters committed to film he was not alone, what did however separate him was that instead of braying hellfire and brimstone at the poor concession stand clerks, ushers or anybody who would listen he ran to his pale blue VW bug, locked the doors and jerked off to the beat of a Jerry Lee Lewis song on the radio.
“Here, take a hit of this shit…it’ll make ya feel better” said Junior as he fished a doobie out of the Marlboro package that was sitting on the dash and punched in the lighter.
Junior stuck out like a turd in a punchbowl with his prim and proper transplanted eastern elitist family.
Junior swung the mustang into the circular driveway, narrowly missing the backside of his mother’s Cadillac.
Mommy was sitting on the plush sofa, jabbering on the telephone and chain smoking Kools, a half full green glass ashtray rested on the end table.
Daddy was furious as Junior stumbled through the door reeking of stale booze, illicit sex, reefer and the pungent stench of moral rot
“I can’t possibly express how disappointed that I am in you, you are on the wrong road through life son”
“This is the last fucking time that I am bailing your ass out……do you know what an abortion can do to my political career?”
“Fuck You!” , screamed Junior….”let’s get it on right now old man!”
“Who in the fuck do you think that you are? The president? …you’re an asshole” shouted Junior.
Junior then wound up and took a big roundhouse swing at his father who due to his tennis playing was far more agile than the clumsy and inebriated son. Daddy stepped to the side and Junior continued to flail like a pinwheel until he smacked into a chair, bounced off and then went crashing into the china cabinet, shattering hundred year old family heirlooms and making a noise so horrific that it downed out his mother’s horrified scream of “FUCK”!!.
Junior went down hard at his poppy’s feet.
Junior grunted and looked up at his father, his eyes glowering with Oedipal hate, then he groaned, rolled over and vomited on the floor.
Daddy just shook his head and thought if it weren’t for me this boy will forever be a fuckup.