Date: Tue, 28 Aug 2007 23:22:59 -0500
From: J.J. <jjjanicki@gmail.com>
Subject: Understanding Sex-Part 5

The following work of fiction contains behavior that may be illegal in
certain localities and to make matters worse, it involves a juvenile. So
if reading FICTIONAL accounts about possible illegal behavior involving a
minor is illegal in your current place of residence, or if you find the
subject matter distasteful, or if you're not of legal age, do not
continue.


                        Understanding Sex-Part 5
                        The Rabbit Salad Sandwich


Monday, June 6th, 2:04 P.M. CST, on U.S. 51, near Bloomington, IL... This
is a time-out. I had to stop for awhile because I was about to get that
carpal tunnel thing. And I also had a slightly upset stomach.

And then, as though my stomach wasn't already upset enough, the last of
the rabbit salad sandwiches was passed back to me and I was expected to
EAT it.

It would be real nice if we stopped off at Taco Bell or something, but
while OTHER people may have money to waste, we're not made of money, so
we eat on the road. Carrot sticks, celery sticks, potato chips and
sandwiches. Oh yummy! In the sandwich department, we have roast beef,
tuna fish and... that rabbit salad.

So what kind of sandwich did I want?

Trying not to think about the rabbit salad, I answered, "I don't know. I
guess I'll have two tuna fish".

"Now see here little boy," said my mom, "there might be somebody else in
this car who wants tuna fish, so you'll take one tuna fish and one of the
other. Which do you want?"

So I asked for roast beef plain, no mustard, no mayonnaise, nothing at
ALL but roast beef and bread.

"Don't you at least want some lettuce on it?"

"Just roast beef and bread, please."

"Aunt Esther might not let you be so picky."

Last summer Aunt Esther usually just gave me five dollars and told me to
get something to eat at Taco Bell or something and I imagine that's the
way it'll be this summer too, but I didn't say anything.

My mom asked, "Do you want ketchup on it?"

"No ma'am."

So finally I got my sandwiches and then while Mandy was offering thanks
for the food we were about to partake in, I was checking the roast beef
for fat, and I'm glad I did. Which is why I didn't want anything on it. I
ate the roast beef with my fingers, carefully avoiding the fat. Anything
remotely NEAR the fat I left between the slices of whole wheat bread and
after awhile the whole entire mess went out the back window. And it's not
littering because it's biodegradable.

But very shortly after I'd finished what I could of the first two
sandwiches my old man bellowed, "You sure you don't want a rabbit salad
before it's all gone? You don't know what you're missing!"

Yeah, well I do know what I'm missing. It makes me gag.

"It tastes just like chicken salad. You won't even know the difference"
he continued. "We're trying to put a little meat on your bones. Honey,
give that boy a rabbit salad."

"I'm full" I blurted out.

My father goes, "You need to put some weight on, J.J."

But finally mom said maybe I'd eat one later.

Mandy ate two of them. She's a good eater. But for the life of me I can't
see how she can manage that rabbit salad. She very well might be eating
George! My ex-pet rabbit. Mandy liked him too. I should have known better
than to make a pet out of one of my old man's rabbits. I mean one day
he's letting me scratch between his ears, next day he's in the damn
freezer. Rabbit salad always did make me gag, but that definitely
reinforced it.

But. Slightly over an hour ago, there being only one rabbit salad left,
my father told my mom to give it to me and I had better EAT it. He was
tired of me being so finicky.

He keeps thinking just because he tells me to do something, I'm
automatically going to do it. He's driving, so he can't see if I do or
not. But even so, I guessed maybe I shouldn't immediately throw it out
the back window. He might be watching his side mirror.

That sandwich made me VERY angry and my stomach became even more queasy.
It was close to a stand-off. I looked at that sandwich for about ten
minutes I guess, and the longer I stared at it the less inclined I was to
take one teeny weeny bite, but at the same time I had almost given up any
hope of my just chucking it out the window, even if there was a 95%
chance he wouldn't be looking at his side mirror at that particular
moment, I could not DO it. This seems to be a microcosm of my entire
life. So finally I hid it under the morning paper and considered the
possible consequences of my rebellion.

At home he would most likely take his belt to me, but on the shoulder of
U.S. 51 or at a roadside park... well, he STILL might use his belt, but
not with his normal enthusiasm. People passing by might not understand.

But he still MIGHT. And I'm not sure what OTHER damning evidence might
come to light. Or lack of evidence. Oh good. Now I have something else to
worry about.

So back my jeans went on AGAIN. But I still didn't eat that sandwich, UH
UH. But I didn't throw it out either and so it just lurked under The
Atlanta Jornal-Constitution and waited.

This state of affairs continued for about thirty minutes, which was
enough time to reconsider the original reason for my upset stomach and
the carpal tunnel flare up. And while not so superstitious as to believe
that sandwich was some sort of divine judgment, I still had to wonder if
it was wise to expose Adam's dick to several million readers. Well, maybe
it won't be quite that many. But at least a few. If I live that long.


2:32 P.M... But you know, I really WOULD like to question the morality of
killing somebody's pet, saying grace over it and EATING the damn thing.



2:47 P.M... Well anyway, that sandwich stayed hid for at least forty-five
minutes. So I'm not sure about the EXACT timing on this, but I'm fairly
sure my old man pulled off to the side of the road about thirty minutes
after I was told to eat it.

So of course I thought, "Uh oh."

But I could relax. He just wanted Mandy to drive awhile. My mom can't
drive, see. Never learned how. (Whew!)

Although as he climbed into the back seat he did wonder how I was doing
and how I liked the rabbit salad.

I said I was doing OK I guessed and the sandwich wasn't as bad as I
thought it would be.

"If you ask me, I think it was MIGHTY good" he said. "I just had a
feeling you'd like it. Don't ask me why, but I did." Then he stretched
out as much as was possible and tried to go to sleep.

After awhile he really did go to sleep, but right at the start it looked
doubtful. I BELIEVE the speed limit is 55 now, but since Mandy HATES
being passed by almost every car on the road she was trying to tell them
it was still 65. That's about as close to rebellion as she ever gets.

"Mandy, you're driving too fast" said my mom.

"Well, the speed limit is 65, you know."

"I don't care if it is" said my father, "just keep it down to 55."

Not five minutes later mom was forced to start up again. "Mandy, you're
going 65 again!"

Then Mandy went "I'm just barely over 60."

Mom went "I guess I can see, little girl."

My old man went "Young lady, I told you to hold it down. We'll get
there."

Mandy went "Not if we get run over by a truck!"

Mom went "Frank! She's not slowing down a bit!"

Mandy went "All right!" and she slowed down to about 63 I guess.

Mom went "Mandy, you're still going too fast."

My father went "Are you going to slow this thing down or am I going to
have to drive? I'd like to get a little sleep, but if I have to drive all
the way up there, I guess I will." Mandy gets the guilt trip, I get the
belt. AND the guilt trip.

But she finally slowed down. I bet steam was coming out of her ears.

One time it was just me and her going somewhere and I talked her into
seeing just how fast this station wagon would go. According to the
speedometer, 92. Although of course it was down a long hill. But what if
she'd wrecked and killed me, huh? Christians are supposed to obey the law
of the land. So I wish she would just kick the traces, I mean if you're
going to Hell for speeding and disobeying your legal guardians, then why
not just GO for it?

But anyway, she FINALLY slowed it down to 58 and soon after that my old
man started sawing wood and not long after that, things started getting
truly weird back in the luggage area.

It started when I decided to get down to my gym shorts again. See, I just
wondered if I could pull my pants off without first unfastening them. It
soon became apparent that I could although it would take a little while.
You tug on your left side a bit. Then the right side. Then the seat. Then
the left side. And so on. But my shorts were coming down with my pants!
And then I thought to myself, "I dare you!"

Soo... by the time I got my pants off, my gym shorts were down below my
knees. That was a close call, because a truck was gaining on us fast. I
quickly pulled them back up. Until the truck finally passed us. (U.S. 51
was two-lane until just south of Decatur. And I you can be sure I shared
Mandy's concern about being run over.)

But once that truck roared on by, THEN I thought to myself, "I dare you
to take them off COMPLETELY! And you have to STAY like that for AT LEAST
A MINUTE. No matter WHAT!"

Well, I lasted 42 seconds. Now a car was coming up on us. I mean it was
flat hauling ass and while I'm almost positive they can't see inside, I
still can't help but feel a bit naked when all I'm wearing is my watch.

Every TIME I get these stupid urges, I inevitably end up feeling guilty.
So sometimes I feel like punishing myself. And once it gets to that
point, things can REALLY get weird. Sometimes you would not BE-LIEVE what
happens. Like for instance just awhile ago, only a few miles south of
Decatur I decided I was going to SHOOT OFF into my sandwich and then I
was going to make myself EAT IT. Now deep down I KNEW I was NOT going to
eat it; I mean rabbit salad is STILL rabbit salad; but it was fun
pretending. Masturbating wasn't much of a problem, I didn't even need to
pull my shorts down, I could just pull it out of my leg opening. If a
truck should appear I'd just cross my legs with my pecker pinned out of
sight until it passed. So anyway, I began to slowly rub myself. Before
long I had a fairly good rhythm going. Then I moved the rabbit salad into
position. My old man was snoring away to beat the band. Of course. Had he
STOPPED, it would have been ABORT! ABORT! Shaking a little, I stuck the
head of my penis between the soggy slices of bread and into the almost
sickeningly warm rabbit salad, just as a test. It felt interesting. Well,
variety is the spice of life, and I sure hadn't ever stuck it into a
rabbit salad sandwich before, so at that point I began wondering if I
could actually FUCK that sandwich. Well, not without making a mess, no.
Beyond a doubt I would end up with rabbit salad all over my shorts. Not
good.

But THEN I thought to myself, "I double-dare you to pull your shorts all
the way down to your KNEES... Well OK, chicken shit, you can wait until
that truck passes..." (And it passed.)... "Now. There's nothing in sight
gaining fast so... Take them all the WAY off! If you're going to persist
in writing shit like you're writing, then you have to be bare-ass naked
and you have to WRAP that sandwich around your dick and just DO IT! NOW!"

And I DID IT! I SWEAR I did! I just pictured Adam walking out of the
bathroom naked that morning like he just didn't care any more and I tore
that damn sandwich UP!

Then the deed was over and done with and oh my gosh WHAT HAD I DONE? I
had made a fucking mess all over my midsection and between my legs,
that's what I had done. It was AWFUL. And that was before I happened to
notice that we were ENTERING Decatur. (Population 94,081.) Oh NO!
Somebody probably SAW me! We'd be sitting at a red light, then some
redneck driving one of those pickup trucks with two story high tires
would pull up beside us, and he'd say to my mom, "Ma'am, I don't know
exactly how to tell you this, but do you know there's a little perv back
there in your luggage without his clothes on? I cannot TELL you what he
was doing ma'am, but I figured as how you might ought to know about it
anyway. But y'all just do what you see fit and have a good day, you
hear?"

You should ALWAYS consider the mess you might make before just going
ahead and making it. It was at least five minutes before I could even get
my shorts ON again, because first I had to wipe myself off and there was
a lot to wipe. I felt almost like I did when I was five and decided to
take my clothes off under the house and I just KNEW it was going to turn
out every bit as bad. Worse even. A lot worse. Like I had the
Journal-Constitution spread over my midsection while feverously trying to
clean myself with a napkin and then with part of the newspaper and the
wind kept catching the paper which was supposed to cover me, and in
wild-eyed desperation I'd think, "Mandy, will you PLEASE slow this thing
DOWN?"... I mean it was awful. No damn wonder I couldn't write for a
little while.


Well OK then. I didn't REALLY beat off back here. I made that up. Well,
in the first place, I'm not ABOUT to jeopardize my summer before it even
gets started. Shit, I'm nervous enough about my missing underwear as it
is. Actually, I THOUGHT off. Cool! I was thinking first about Matthew,
then Adam, reliving that last morning in Colorado Springs when all at
once.. OOPS, it happened. I couldn't believe it. (And as it turned out, I
was on Adam when it happened. But I don't think there's any particular
significance to it being him. It just happened that way.) But anyway, my
penis was slightly out, so I don't have a semen stain on my shorts now. I
mean I had sort of pulled it out, but it was just BARELY out, just it's
head is all, and every now and then I'd rub on it a little. But when I
DID lose it I wasn't even touching it.

Well anyway, I just got to thinking what IF I decided to fuck that
sandwich, that's all. So it's an interesting story, don't you think? Just
a little bit?

Oh, and as for what really happened to the sandwich, well, I finally got
up enough nerve to throw the thing out, that's all.

Oh, and the only reason we entered Decatur in the first place was because
Mandy missed the bypass. But after a couple of blocks she got turned
around. Then once on the bypass things got REALLY interesting as the
POSTED speed limit was STILL 55, but NOBODY (except us) was paying any
attention to that. The truckers sure weren't. Mandy kept mentioning going
with the flow of traffic, but nooo. It was a fairly harrowing experience,
almost as bad as when we went through Nashville. But not nearly as bad as
I-285 in Atlanta. My old man doesn't drive on 285 anymore. Which is a
good thing, believe me. But ANYway, I figured if I was going to make up
that story I might as well make it REALLY interesting, so I put us IN
Decatur. And I thought about making it even MORE interesting by having us
pull into a gas station (I mean HO-LY SHIT!) but... no. Because after
all, once at the pump it would have been all over, you know?


And guess what. The finish of my report on Matthew has now been postponed
until part SEVEN. But at least it's not because another one of my pets
has gone missing. Which may be of some relief to whoever ends up reading
this.

No, it's because originally I was going with a somewhat idealized version
of this story. About me and Matthew. I mean don't worry, I was going to
tell you exactly what HAPPENED all right, but...

Oh shit. Let's start over. Well look, I'm TRYING to get some damn work
done here, OK? And on THIS particular subject I doubt very seriously if
anyone sharing Dr. Danko's mindset is going to be of much help. And I'm
also going to make a brief detour here.

Like I've just got to tell you about this pamphlet I came across one time
while I was in his waiting room, OK? It was "A Parent's Guide to Sexual
Addictions". Only it wasn't illustrated. But wouldn't you know it,
excessive masturbation was one of the major warning signs. And another
was preoccupation with sex. Which sounds a lot like warning signs of
puberty to me, but then I've been brainwashed by the Secular Humanists.
But even so, I STILL have to wonder how a concerned parent is supposed to
be AWARE of excessive masturbation. I mean seriously, I don't think all
that many adolescents whack off in front of their parents. Although I
guess the concerned parent could peek or something, or Junior could tell
his friendly caring Christian psychiatrist about it... So see, that was
an important detour. At least in a way it was.

So OK. How's this? When you're a baby you don't WORRY about being naked,
because you don't know any better. But your parents start in with the
naughty naughty routine. So as you get a little older you STILL don't
know what the big deal is, but you keep your clothes on most of the time
because it just seems to work out better if you do. But in MY mind, the
IDEAL was some place where nobody worried about being naked. SEX I didn't
know about yet. So really, me and Kelly running around naked was fairly
close to that ideal. Because we just didn't KNOW. Although we did know
nobody ELSE could know, which made it even more fun, and we WERE right on
the verge of knowing, but we didn't. Know. And I really don't think you
want to try diagraming that.

(But in case you're interested, we were right on the VERGE when we
decided to paint each other's woo woos. It was war paint, all right? But
it DID tickle funny and our woo woos sure did look awfully warlike when
they started sticking up.)

Look, I have nothing against sex. Obviously not, else I wouldn't have
made up "The Naked Amazon Headhunter and the Missionary". But sex really
is confusing. And a little scary.

So let's review here. Me and Kelly running around naked without a care in
the world. Ideal. Very much so.

Me and Kelly giving each other rubdowns. Seeing as how we really didn't
do it for too awfully long, still ideal. And if we HAD done it for too
long... well, I don't know how Kelly would have reacted and I'll get to
how I reacted shortly. I mean I didn't find out about THAT until after
moving to Atlanta, and my INITIAL reaction... well, I'll get to it.

Painting on our woo woos. Well, they really DID look warlike but we
couldn't make them STAY up like that for very long, because once we
started chasing each other around, well, they just went back down, that's
all. So... my idealistic bubble remained intact.

That last night in North Carolina when I spent the night with Kelly and
we decided we WEREN'T going to wear our pjs and since nobody was going to
come in on us anyway, we ended up naked. He had this big old bed. And the
mattress sagged in the middle and for early October it was really sort of
chilly and they didn't have central heat upstairs and we were watching
some old horror movie on his little black and white that was so bad it
was good in a way, but there were times when it was maybe just a LITTLE
scary, so we ended up going to sleep right next to each other with our
legs sort of tangled up. With his breath on my neck and his hair brushing
my face and that MIGHT be as close to the ideal as I'll ever come.

NOT ideal was when I noticed that tickling sensation when the handle of
our lawnmower came in contact with my midsection. Felt kind of good you
know, and so I let that handle make contact again and I held it there
just feeling better and better. Only then I cut it out because you KNOW I
couldn't risk being caught in such a compromising position with our
lawmower, but you should ALSO know that I'd already decided first chance
I got, I was going to find OUT about all this. So eventually the
opportunity presented itself and when the inevitable happened I thought
I'd KILLED it.

But then finding out that I HADN'T killed it and it was all very normal
put things back to at least close to ideal.

(Considering my upbringing, you well might be asking yourself exactly HOW
I found out it was normal. Well like I said earlier, you would be
surprised at what you can find at Waldenbooks. And if the lady clerk
comes up and says, "Can I help you?" and you go, "No, I was just looking"
blush blush and she goes, "Well, that book is supposed to be sealed and
if you want to look at it, then your parents can buy it for you and you
can look at it at home", well, you would ALSO be surprised at what you
can find at the library. Especially at college libraries. I mean REALLY!
A virtual treasure trove. Un-be-LIEV-able!)

But let's get to the way things are now. Or at least last summer. It
seems like a good idea because this stream-of-consciouness stuff might
not be working as well as I hoped. (What I'd REALLY like to do is create
a whole new method of writing, if you want to know the truth about it,
but then I guess having people know just what in the fuck you're talking
about has it's merits as well.)

(And I'm almost to the end of part 5. Happy?)

So OK then. Matthew being a damn exhibitionist around me was still pretty
ideal. He didn't care and I was in HEAVEN. Popping woodies. Well, it
happens all the time, you know. And it doesn't even have to involve sex.
And Matthew didn't care about that either. Which really WAS nice.
Checking out other people like for instance Adam. Just normal curiosity,
that's all. I looked it up, and really, it's normal.

But catching Ray Kohle looking up your shorts and after a bit of initial
discomfiture deciding, "Well hell, I'll LET him look", now THAT at the
very least is taking an awfully big chance on having your bubble popped.
Fortunately, I'm very good at rationalizing (thank you for that
information, Dr. Danko), but...

But I think I really should tell you about Ray Kohle before getting back
to Matthew, that's all. Because for one thing, the deal with Ray Kohle
happened shortly before the completion of what went on between me and
Matthew. And I guess I might as well deal with the way things are.

But don't worry, I'm not going to go tragic on you. Because when it comes
to tragedies, I really suck. And anyway, there's a GOOD story that's
going to pop up about half way through and I'm going to tell it. Because
it sort of helps explain some things. And it should also act as a
counterbalance to the rest of the story.

So in conclusion, I'm not sure exactly WHAT today's voyage of self
discovery accomplished, but... well, I guess I'll leave it in anyway for
some long-suffering Secular Humanist psychiatrist on down the road a bit.
Mabye HE can figure it out.



And yes! Comments are still welcome! Even from those who might have
commented earlier. Would love to hear from you! How am I doing? That sort
of thing. Honest.


jjjanicki@gmail.com