Date: Wed, 17 Dec 2003 11:41:50 -0800
From: DG
Subject: Slapshot chapter 2

Copyright Notice Reminder This story is copyright by the author and the
author retains all rights.  Expressly prohibited is the posting of the
story to any sites not approved by the author or charging for the story in
any manner. Single copies may be downloaded and printed for personal use
provided the story remains unchanged.  Such a good notice I had to
plagiarise it.

If you shouldn't be reading stories like this one, don't get caught The
non-standard thing about this story is that it's going to be about a trio
type love story, sex will occur in this chapter.  You're too late to decide
the physical attributes of one of the characters.  I've decided that most
of Virgil's family are black.  The story is set in the early 80's and
depending on which way the readers respond to the tale, the characters may
or may not have std issues.  This is the first time that I've written a
story that I want others to read, it is complete and utter fiction,
although some of the events could occur, I have no proof that any of them
actually did.  Any hockey heroes mentioned are there for the flavour of the
tale and as far as I know have rarely if ever had sex.  The number
characters signify a change of viewpoint.  Oh, I think it would be a very
good idea to publically my editor; mom.

Corrections, the kids are 16 turning 17.  The time of the tale has been
moved to November '83, Virgil's parent's and uncles are from Savannah
Georgia, the uncles now live in New Orleans.

Part 2 Virgil's uncles

To say that my father was not happy with my being injured at hockey last
night would be an understatement.  Neither of my parents had liked the idea
of me playing a sport where there were 5 white guys chasing me with sticks
in the first place.  After they found out how Gwin got his broken jaw and
why the goalie kicked me with his skates, I was ordered to start playing
another sport.  Before I could protest too much about how hockey was a
great sport and that I wasn't hit with any stick in the fight, the phone
rang; it was the Bulldog's coach on the line.

I picked up the phone and told the coach that my injury wasn't too bad and
that I was sure I'd make the next game.  I'm not going to tell you exactly
what the whoreson told me over the phone, it's enough to tell you that he
asked me to find another team to play for.  Apparently not all coaches like
the idea of fighting in hockey; damned wuss.  Fighting is the best part of
hockey, who needs to watch boxing when you can have the same thing on ice.
Every sport is better on ice, hockey is a form of soccer on ice, riding
your bike on ice is like riding thru semi-solid mud, maybe the parents will
be happy if I took up curling.

After the excitement over breakfast I went upstairs to my room to get ready
for our second Thanksgiving of the year.  We celebrated our normal
Thanksgiving back in October at Gwin's parent's home.  But this Saturday
was special in our home as we had our uncles come up from New Orleans for
the American Thanksgiving.  Hey, why celebrate a holiday only once?  My
face was still quite tender, fortunately I found that eating wasn't much of
a problem for me even though I did look like Frankenstein with the 24
stiches from my lips to my earlobe.  I knew that I'd be able to make my
mother proud of her ability to feed me.

Hmmm, maybe I should tell you what I saw in my mirror that Saturday
morning, eh?  I'm 6' tall, weigh 195 lbs and have a nicely toned body from
playing hockey and really well built legs, calves and butt from our year
round habit of cycling everywhere.  I've got the darkest skin in my family,
my hair is black and my eyes are hazel in colour.  As far as I'm concerned
I'm still in puberty and my dick hasn't stopped growing yet, it grows a
number of times each and every day if you're really curious about such
things.  To meet the uncles I decided to wear my new blue jeans, a white
t-shirt and a heavy green dress shirt.  Mother didn't agree, so I wore some
nice wool longjohns under my new dark blue suit.  I didn't think it was a
good idea to wear nice clothes under a heavy parka, by the time we got to
the airport my new suit was covered in down feathers and very wrinkled.
Winter in Edmonton is an endurance test, fashion is clothes that keep you
warm, this year the snow fell in mid September and we didn't get any
chinooks during the early part of the winter to melt the damn stuff.  This
morning the temperature bottomed out at -25C, by the time the relatives get
here it should warm up to -19C or so, you don't want to know what the temp
will be after dark.  I asked my parents if I could go with them to the
airport when we picked up the uncles and I was looking forward to seeing
them again for two reasons; first I wanted to ask them how they met, second
I was surely going to enjoy the effect that real winter has on those poor,
foolish unfortunate individuals who leave the warm south during this time
of year.  No one should ever visit my home town between October and March,
it's just not a wise thing to do.

Uncle Robert and Jeb arrived on time and their reaction to the weather
didn't disappoint us at all, unbelievably, despite having come up two years
ago, they had forgotten to pack their parkas.  Neither of them were happy
with the idea that I'd been hurt playing hockey and asked me what sport I'd
be playing next year.  Uncle Jeb was the first adult to point out that my
scar looked more like a duelling scar, mother stopped him from saying more
and asked me to bring our wagon around to the arrivals section of the
airport. I went back to the car to warm it up again before my poor uncles
still had to run 15 feet in -20C weather.  By the time they got into our
station wagon uncle Rob was almost as white as Jeb.  Like all good Alberta
boys I got my learners permit at fourteen and this was the third winter
that I could legally drive.  I'm sure Ivan will tell you about that time
during summer scout camp that we took the van for a spin while the rest of
our troop was skinny dipping, it's a time that I'd rather forget.

My father ordered me into the back with my uncles for the ride home, he
still didn't trust my driving skills enough to allow me to drive on the
freeway in winter.  I did protest, but not too much I knew that there was a
reason I had to ask Jeb and Rob how they met outside the house.  I couldn't
see my father's face from the back seat, but when I asked them how they met
I did see a smile come to my mother's face.  They didn't look at me when
telling me their story, they did hold hands and gazed into each other's
eyes and didn't notice the outside world as they remembered.

"Well, it was the best of possible traumatic events, Virgil.  I met your
Uncle Jeb at the draft office in Savannah Georgia.  We arrived at the draft
office on November 17, 1967 and I had already decided that there was no way
I was going to fight in Vietnam, but I was terrified of what the reaction
would be when I told the recruiting sergeant that I wasn't fit to serve in
the army because I was homosexual.  When I told the sergeant that I was
gay, he didn't believe me.  I've never been very effeminate, and I was a
well built young man in those days, just what the army wanted as cannon
fodder.  I found out later that I was the third black man to tell that
sergeant that I was gay and he decided not to put up with it anymore, he
wanted me to prove that I was gay.  I really didn't like the idea of
proving anything with that sergeant, the man just wasn't at all attractive
to me and I couldn't trust the man.  Fortunately for me the sergeant didn't
want me to prove anything with him, he was waiting for the next guy to tell
him that he couldn't fight because he was a pansy.  As I was waiting for
him to work through the line of draftees I noticed the most stunning man
that I've ever seen.  The first thing that surprised me was that the man
was white, up until then I'd never thought of white men as being
attractive.  They were the people who had oppressed us for hundreds of
years, they were the rulers of our country who got us into a needless war,
they were the law who enforced segregation during my youth, and they were
the people who didn't like the fact that segregation had officially been
ended.  In spite of my own hatred for white people when I saw your Uncle
Jeb in that office, my heart soared, I felt a bit dizzy and thought to
myself that is one fine looking man.  He was well built from working on a
farm for his entire life, wearing coveralls and a plaid shirt that showed a
bit of his very furry chest.  I remember talking to your father about his
feelings for your mother when they met in school and why he was so sure
that she was the only woman for him.  I never thought that I'd have those
feelings for anyone, but there I was sitting on a bench and for the first
time I prayed to God that he give me that man."

Uncle Jeb took over the story and said "I knew that if I was drafted into
the army I'd have spent time in jail for being homosexual.  My former
family weren't the most pleasant people in the state, they had the idea
that they were better than others because of the colour of their skin, it
still pains me to say this, but my great-grandfather helped found the KKK
after the end of the War Between the States.  I come from a family of sore
losers you could say.  As much as my parents hated black people, they had a
greater disdain for homosexuals, and they did their damnedest to beat the
sissy out of me when I was growing up.  I found out about being gay when I
was your age, 16 or so, my daddy decided to give me a lesson in sex-ed; he
took me to a whorehouse.  I was lucky that the girl my daddy paid for was
more than happy just to talk to me about the situation, she had a brother
who was 'that way' and still loved him, she taught me how to hide my
feelings for men and how to accept my sexuality.  I was able to hide my
sexuality with a nice southern girl from a good family who, as luck would
have it, had to hide her own sexuality from her nice southern family.  I
could have avoided the draft by marrying the girl, but that wasn't right,
and as my family couldn't afford to send me to college or get me into the
national guard, I decided to tell the recruiting sergeant that I was unfit
to serve because I was homosexual.  I was shocked to hear the sergeant
smile when I told him I was gay, all the man did was to smirk and shout out
'Washington, front and centre!' I turned and saw the most handsome man I've
ever laid eyes on.  Your uncle Rob was the finest and most distinguished
man I could imagine, I swear I didn't even notice the colour of his skin, I
looked into the most stunning eyes and could see in their depths a fire
that still burns.  The sergeant ordered us to prove that we were gay by, in
his words, 'swapping spit with this boy', I did remember my manners and
asked your Uncle Rob if I had his permission to kiss him."

"You should have heard the response from the rest of the people in the
room," Uncle Rob spoke again " they were not happy to see a white guy kiss
a black man.  I noticed the catcalls and the hate in their voices, but our
first kiss was electric.  The world shrank to us alone, our hands roamed
during one of the most passionate and erotic kisses ever seen in that
recruiting office.  The sergeant was a bit obnoxious, he pronounced us wife
and wife, then told us to get the fuck out of his sight.  Jeb and I decided
that that was the day we were officially wed.  We returned to Jeb's
apartment to shower and had a long talk about where we wanted to go from
there."

"Why did you have to take a shower" I asked.

The laughter of my uncles and parents turned to screams as the car
fishtailed on a patch of black ice.

##################

Ok, so the first sex scene I've ever written sucked big time.  But hey,
don't tell me you've never fantasized about making out in a recruiting
office.  I'd write more but I wanna go see the Return of the King.  Maybe
in the next chapter I'll learn how to write proper dialogue.