Date: Wed, 15 May 2013 15:24:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: Boris Chen <borischen@rocketmail.com>
Subject: A Dish Served Cold Chapter 1

A Dish Served Cold, by Boris Chen

This is the story about a fractured family from coastal California. Two gay
sons live with a distracted and non-engaged mother. Their father sits in
prison convicted of embezzlement and wire fraud - likely to spend the rest
of his life behind bars. Mom writes Hollywood movie scripts while working
out in the gym frequently neglecting her own children. The story covers the
bullying abuses in school and the coming torrent of revenge nobody saw
coming. Only in this case, revenge comes from the law, not from the hands
of the victims.

This story also features gay incest sex (which is towards the end of the
story). Those that are easily offended should leave this story
immediately. This story is totally fabricated. I've never been to any of
these places, it's totally made up except the places are real. I've never
even been on a sailboat!

You can read the entire (six chapters of this) story right now online for
free, sign-up, then `follow' me.

www.wattpad.com/borischen

Comments to borischen at rocketmail dot com

Chapter 1

I think it was knowing what would happen to me and my entire family that
kept me from going for blood. Let's face it, what they did to me was
wrong. It was wrong in so many ways. It was considered wrong by about every
civilized person on earth today.

My biggest problem was the public school here in California. They have
stupid rules and double standards too. The liberals in our government
condemn the violence in my favorite video games, but say nothing about the
even worse violence in movies made here in our state. Bullying and violence
of gay kids in school is kept really quiet. But violent video games are a
national tragedy! Don't get me started.

I'm a boy. I attend high school here in Malibu. I live at home with my mom
and brother. My mom's single. Dad left us years ago for Lompoc Correctional
where he's probably someone's prison bitch now. She's been dating for the
past several years with little to show for her efforts at the gym or the
liquor store. But what do I know? I'm just an 18 year old kid, right? My
birthday was a few days ago. It went mostly ignored by the family. Again.

Let's rewind this tape and start at the beginning.

Mom became a Hollywood script writer after she graduated from Northwestern
University in 1985 with a doctorate in English literature. She moved to the
west coast to get a job in Hollywood. She found some guy who pretended to
have the same goals as hers. They had two kids, I was born first, then she
switched her allegiance to the company she worked for and ignored the rest
of us while the family slowly went down the drain, right into the ocean.

I think the sperm donor had been charged with federal crimes and convicted
before she ever noticed he was gone or anything was wrong at home.

My brother and I have been stuck in the little public school here in Malibu
ever since, it takes the place of daycare I guess. Sometimes she's an hour
late picking us up from school. Luckily there's a pool and outdoor stuff to
keep us occupied until she manages to arrive. Whatever!

My name is William VanSant but they call me Billy. My little brother is
Scott. Mom is Susan. We're relatives to Gus VanSant, the movie director. My
mom is his brother's oldest child. I think that makes us second cousins or
something. She would be his niece I think.

Then there's the pathetic tale of my bio-father. The sperm donor's been in
prison for the past nine years. I hardly remember him. Mom got rid of all
his photos. He was a Hollywood executive producer and investor guru to the
stars. He got greedy, sort of the Bernie Madoff of the west coast back in
1999 when I was ten years old. I haven't seen him since mom got divorced
after he went to the Lompoc Federal Correctional Complex.





Dad got busted for lots of things but ended up sentenced to thirty years in
prison for stealing about 85 million dollars. That made headlines all up
and down the west coast and made me really popular in the 5th grade, the
bad kind of popular. Before the next school year, mom had our names changed
to her maiden name, which helped but the stigma is still there.

Personally, it wouldn't surprise me to learn that mom had millions stuffed
in her mattress or something. She says the IRS audits her every year,
although I'm not exactly sure what that means.





Mom can't find employment because of who she was married to. I guess
everyone suspects her of being involved in the thefts. She was investigated
and never charged with wrong doing. End of story, Right? Except Hollywood's
memory for being ripped off is longer than their precious copyrights. So
mom is still self employed as a script writer.

Nobody knows what happened to the bucks, and mom says she knows nothing. I
guess script writing pays well these days. She's done about ten big name
movies since moving here, and maybe about ten more small ones you probably
never saw. She uses a variety of names and often sells them for others to
take credit, but she shows us the originals dated years before the movies
come out. She wrote Pretty Woman and Ghost too.





Okay, that's my confession. I was a little kid and had nothing to do with
it, but I pay the price every day, so does my brother. Let's make it worse
now by getting the other thing onto the table. I'm gay, so is my
brother. That's it. Hate me if you want.

If you know the lingo, I'm what they'd call a smooth twink gay boy. Same
for Scott really, but I'm not his spokesman. I'm like 5'9" maybe 120
pounds, brown hair, clean shaven, everywhere if you get my meaning. I let
it grow on my legs but nowhere else except the top of my head. Hair's about
one inch long and spiked. My inny is shallow with a smooth bottom and my
tits are large, flat and red, lips thick. My mom hates me for my lips. I
got very dark brown eyes, like my brother and mom. I never got zits either.

We live in Malibu in the house mom bought before she met dad. I think she
was well off before they met after she sold several scripts. Anyway shes
done well money-wise even before dad came along and spruced things up even
more. All I know is the topic of the missing $85 million is not open for
discussion no matter what I come home from school repeating that someone
asked me during class or at recess.

And being Malibu I'm surely not the only gay person at school. Rumor is a
bunch of the school staff is gay too. I do not discuss sex at school with
anyone, ever, anymore. My brain is now wired to graduate ASAP and avoid
being beaten. I even take the outside walkways to avoid the interior air
conditioned hallways too.

The bad part is the entire swim team, varsity and junior varsity are
straight, nor do they keep it a secret. To make it big on the varsity swim
team you gotta be straight, skinny, smooth, blond, and drive your parents
BMW to school. That one sentence describes the entire front-line varsity
team, all twenty of them. I suspect they have a breeding program going on
somewhere because they seem to never run out of applicants.

I think the average IQ of swim team members is like 65 or something.

Last week, I was one of several students who got shoved into lockers,
hard. Had backpacks ripped from me and dumped in the hallway. Last year I
had my term paper dumped into the toilet and flushed. Luckily I had a copy
at home. I really can't carry a computer to school because of the damage to
my back pack.

In 7th grade I got punched in the face, one tooth broken and a bloody
nose. Mom wanted nothing to do with that news either. She took me to the
dentist for a crown two weeks later but did nothing otherwise. My brother
has it almost as bad. He's learned better how to be un-seen in school. He
rarely speaks outside the home or mom's Mercedes. At school he tells people
his name is Scott Johnson!

In freshman year I got tripped by someone on the swim team running on the
track during gym. I fell forward, broke my left arm. Later that year when I
was sitting outside school waiting on Mom to come get me, some varsity swim
team asshole shoved me off the stairwell wall. I fell backwards to the
ground, almost broke my neck. I got xrays that time and wore a brace for
two weeks. And as usual, mom did nothing.

During my sophomore year I had to make arrangements to email my teachers
all my writing assignments because they usually got destroyed by swim team
members in the hallway or ripped-up in class before handing them in.
Luckily I grew a little taller this year and one of the team moved to
Oregon so things cooled slightly, but I still tried to be invisible at
school. Mom still did nothing to help, and the school pretty much ignored
it too.

Basically if you encounter someone on the varsity swim team in the hallway
you're screwed - the bad kind of screwed that is.

For me it started in fifth grade and continued until about 72 hours ago
when it all stopped.