Chapter 11: (but not the finish) DIDDLING DILLON

“Really like this story looking forward to see where its going.” is the comment.

Some folks turn a new book to the final pages and read the conclusion before starting at the beginning. Can’t argue with human nature. I mean, you could, but to what purpose? Futility? An interesting word in itself. Is it a contraction of fuck utility? Anyway, for those impatient souls who can’t bear suspense, here is the final chapter in advance of the rest of the story, but I haven’t allowed it to be a spoiler, I hope. The story isn’t ruined by reading this conclusion. I have saved a few surprises to dispense over time and inside chapters not yet written. Easter eggs can be re-purposed into deviled easter eggs. Devilish of me, you think?

EYES ONLY

SECRETLY REPURPOSED THE EXPOSE

by Yob

This is a secret and hopefully perpetually private memoir.

Detailed accounts of true life episodes and the actual relationships explained without reservation, obfuscation, or inhibitions, are for the enjoyment and reminisces of the principle original participants eyes only.

“Shall we try again to watch ‘Old Yeller’ all the way through?”

“I know you too well, Dillon. The only way I’ll ever see ‘Old Yeller’ completely through from start to finish, unmolested, is if I outlive you. Little chance of that, you’re too full of vibrant juices.”

“Who molested who? Shall I remind you? Again?”

“Who could stop you, again, and again, and again ad infinitum”

“Well, shall we try again to watch ‘Old Yeller’ all the way through to the end, to celebrate my birthday, or don’t you love me anymore?”

“Don’t whine you big baby. Come here.”

“Am I still your baby?”

“As long as the sun sets and rises and you continually fish for compliments, you’ll remain my baby. The only one I’ll ever have.”

“That last bit was unkind and unfair, Ricky. It’s not either of our faults I never got pregnant, it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“I wasn’t blaming you, sweetness.”

“Better not. Put your hand on your knee palm up.”

“I know the drill.“

“The ‘Drill’ includes me having to tell you to do it, just like the first time. Do I have to threaten you, like the first time?”

“Isn’t that also part of the drill? Comfortable, Dillon?”

“You can start diddling your Dillon now. Kiss me like I’m something you never expected to have!”

“Who taught you how to kiss, anyway? When are you going to tell me THAT ancient secret?”

“Okay, you’ve suffered for fifty years of suspicion and suspense, I guess I owe you the truth. Jeanette and I used to practice on each other. I could tell when I kissed her good, because she’d get wet. She never knew if she was doing it right or not, because I was always wet.”

“You two used to touch each other?”

“That’s what sisters are for, didn’t you touch yours?”

Silence or taking the fifth are my only wise options.

Seated panties-less on Ricky’s hand cupping her naked and shaved genitals, Marshall hit play on the DVD. The re-mastered 1957 Disney film ‘Old Yeller’ begins and the childless elderly married couple begins making out, part of a cherished foreplay routine, reliving a pivotal episode in their lives fifty years earlier. This happens every year on the anniversary of that momentums day, which also coincides with Marshall’s birthday.

Fourteen year old Ricky took nine year old Marshall to the movies to see ‘Old Yeller’ as a special treat on her ninth birthday. She blackmailed him into molesting her, by threatening to CLAIM he molested her, if he refused.

The seats they now sit in are the same ones, purchased as salvage when the old theater was demolished.

Their giant home theater screen is massive but much smaller than the projection screen at the old Bijou Cinema. Now they’re alone in the screening room of their mansion. It was built next to the first and original junkyard and still is. On that ninth birthday being re-celebrated, they were surrounded by young black couples making out in the darkness of the theaters balcony. Today, it’s just themselves.

Today, Marshall is fifty nine years old. Ricky, will soon be sixty six. Their auto recycling empire covers three states, two dozen scrap yards, and a museum of restored classic cars worth millions. The name and slogans are famous.

“BRING YOUR WORN OUT PRIDE AND JOY TO RICKY’S REPURPOSE CENTERS! WE JUST LOVE OLD CARS TO PIECES!”

Not the END!

ENOUGH!

I don’t want to give too much away or become too graphic with minors involved.

Chapter Twelve resumes the story just after Ricky gives his Mom the Cushman scooter in running condition.