Markwildyr.com,
Post #203
Here’s our next little
story. Hope you enjoy it.
* * * * *
NOTHING
BUT THE BEST
How did Yancy Charles Yates earn
the sobriquet of “Nothin’?” That takes some ’splaining, as my next-door
neighbor used to say. Yancy wasn’t born with the proverbial silver spoon in his
mouth, but somewhere in our early years he acquired one. Except that it was
gold… or possibly platinum. But that wasn’t enough. He was a cute kid, a fetching
youngster, and a drop-dead handsome youth. Want some more? He wasn’t spoiled
rotten. No, he was faultlessly polite and thoughtful to everybody. More?
Awesome jock and genuine brain. He sent sports records and grade levels soaring
so high they likely wouldn’t be broken for years.
The guy had nothing but the
best. Sooo… everyone started calling him that. He’d show up, and everybody’d
yell, “Nothing but the Best’s here.” Well, you know us kids. That soon became
“Nothing But,” and deteriorated from there to simply “Nothin’. The campus joke
was that whenever Yancy showed up, somebody’d ask, “What’s up, Nothin’?”
He’d always reply, “Nothin’.”
I always thought there was
more than one way to interpret that.
Now that’s outta the way, I
gotta tell you a little about me. William’s the name, but guess what that morphed
into? You got it, “Willie.” Hate it, absolutely hate it, but your
contemporaries don’t ask you what you want to be called, they just dub you this
or that… or Willie. My family’s well off, but not in the Yates’ league. I made
the honor roll but didn’t set records. I do okay on the soccer field and tennis
court, but I sure can’t claim hero status the way Nothin’ does on the
basketball court or gridiron.
But there’s one thing where he
really leaves me in the dust. The girls I can claim to conquer. Oh, I get my
share of dates. Never go stag unless it’s by choice. The problem is, I can’t
hang onto them. I just don’t get serious about one. For a couple of years, some
pretty dishy gals worked on landing the elusive Willie Walls, but after a while
they gave up. Now my dates are just casual. They’re not the problem. I am. To
tell the truth, if I wasn’t expected to show up with a date, I wouldn’t. For a
long time, I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. Then one day, it hit me.
I’d rather be with Nothin’ than with any of them. We used to be buddies. Lived
on the same block for years until my folks moved into a big house, and his
moved into an even bigger one. Strayed a little since then, but I still
considered him a bud and assumed he did too.
Even after I arrived at the
conclusion I preferred his company, I didn’t figure it out. Not right away. You
know, a guy can be smart as a whip about facts and figures but dumber’n crap
about himself. And I was so dumb, I couldn’t even use the euphemism, I wasn’t
dumber’n crap. I was dumber’n shit.
I didn’t really face up to it
until one day one of the in-girls sashayed by and somebody in our group dropped
his voice and said, “Man, wouldn’t you like to see her in flagrante?”
“That means in the act, dumbass,”
I said. “I think you mean au naturel. Without clothes.”
“Yeah, that's what I mean. Nothing at all!”
I clearly remember my
reaction… unstated, thank God. Naw, I’d rather see Nothin’. I was struck dumb,
and I think the guys figured I’d had a stroke or something. In a way, I had. I
was stroked right in the head by a bolt of lightning. Where did that come from?
I’d seen Nothin’ in the all-together lots of times. But that was in the gym
lockers or pool dressing rooms with other guys flipping towels and making jokes.
It was all so impersonal. But that’s not what I was talking about inside
my head. I was talking to me about intimacy. Intimacy with Yancy Charles
Yates, aka Nothin’. Lord have mercy! In that moment, it all fell into place. I
was hankering for Nothin’!
Now that I had discovered my
problem, what was I going to do about it? Probably nothing—nothing with a small
N.
But was that practical? It
explained so much about me to me. Like why when some of us guy sat around
talking smut, I’d get so worked up I sometimes had to hide my condition. Why I
wasn’t getting anywhere with girls. While I wasn’t a virgin, I wasn’t a
cocksman. I mean, it was all right when I got it off, but the earth sure as
hell didn’t move like some guys talk about. Take it or leave it. How many guys
feel that way?
That was when the second bolt
of lightning hit. If I wasn’t interested in girls and was interested in
Nothin’, did that mean I might be interested in other guys? Was I… well, you
know? Oh crap!
Did the
revelation arrive like this for any of you? I’d be interested in hearing what
you have to say about it.
As indicated on the last post, Charlie Blackbear has been published as an ebook by JMS Books. Likewise, print books for Wastelakapi and Cut Hand are now available.
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
Email:
markwildyr@aol.com
Facebook:
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Twitter: @markwildyr
Now my
mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.
You have something to say, so say it!
See you later.
Looking forward to next "episode"
ReplyDeleteDear Avid Reader. Thanks for your comment. I'm anxious to see it, as well. Sometimes I think I write these things in my sleep and am surprised when I read them anew. Appreciate your being a reader.
ReplyDelete