The Treehouse

 

The Treehouse

I was never gay.  As children, in our treehouse, I touched Tommy and he touched me, but it was just for a second, we didn’t like it, and we never did it again.  All the other boys were doing it.  It meant nothing.  I wasn’t gay. 

Growing up, I did the straightest things I could think of, like football and wood shop.  Tommy did sissy things like playing clarinet.  I told him that clarinet was almost as gay as flute.  He said I was more gay because I showered with jocks.  After games, I went to school dances with pretty girls while Tommy met up with his drama club pals. 

After graduation, I was a construction foreman and Tommy was a florist.  We grew apart and lost track of each other.

At our tenth reunion, Tommy told me about his wife Lola and their two sons.  I told him about my partner Chad and our plans to adopt.  I asked him if he had any advice about raising boys.  He said one thing: No treehouses.      

Twin Towns

 

Twin Towns



In the valley were two towns, one white and one black. Local history buffs could find no trace of past slavery or segregation. Even so, an uneasy guilt kept the white mayor awake at night. He asked the black mayor for a meeting.

“How can we bring our people together?” asked the white mayor.

The black mayor said “Let’s not. Just let it be.”

The black town had good schools, good jobs, low crime, and no hard feelings. The white town was the same, except for a vague sense of guilt. Then county board, which also had an uneasy sense of guilt, arranged a conference call to the two mayors.

“All the other towns in our county are diverse except yours. What are you going to do about it?”

The white mayor said “We’re fleshing out some ideas.”

The black mayor said “Leave my town alone. Hands off.”

Having made no headway, the county seat passed the buck upward and set up a zoom meeting with the state’s governor.

“Governor, we have a problem.” said the white mayor.

“I know. You look segregated. I’m getting pressure from social media. We must manage their perception.”

The black mayor said “No. Stop this nonsense. We moved here from a worse state to be left alone.”

The buck passed ever upward. The white governor got a call from Washington. It was getting serious. The mayors, governor and white house met - in person.

The white mayor said “Mr. President, we’ve done all we can, but the black town won’t budge.”

The black mayor said “We don’t want to be absorbed into white culture and lose our cultural identity.”

The black president said “It’s a tricky situation. My parents came from your black town and they’ll disown me if I mess with it.”

The brown vice president said “This is not just a black and white issue.”

The president said “What we need here is a symbolic gesture.” All agreed. The two towns would hold a joint town fair to project a public display of unity

The white mayor suggested “Let’s call it Diversity Day.”

The black mayor said “Let’s not.  Let's call it Pride Day.”

The brown VP said "How about Cinco Day."  

So they called it Twin Town Day.

There were international food stands, safe carnival rides, square dancing, break dancing, and salsa. For the finale, there were three concerts on the main stage: bluegrass, rap, and mariachi. That’s what started the riots.

We Don't Care

 

We Don’t Care

The year: 2099. The question everyone’s asking: Are men necessary? Our national reserve sperm stockpile has enough seed to populate the entire solar system, so we don’t need men to make love to plastic cups in fertility clinics anymore. Soldiers no longer need to be big strong men who can carry bazookas and stingers, because war is waged by reformed teen hackers with joysticks at digital consoles in secure coffee shops. Men are no longer needed to raise children while their wives are at work since universal daycare re-education centers are mandated on every street corner. Men are unnecessary, and they don’t care.

We haven’t had a white president since BLM News defeated Fox in the ratings wars of 2050. Books by white authors are banned now, as are re-runs of Mayberry and Friends. Some white people went back to Europe where they came from. Other whites are hiding in the mountains of Tennessee and Kentucky. They home-school their kids in particle physics and banjo. They’re all brilliant, but can’t get into Harvard, where most students now major in 8th grade English. White people are endangered, and they don’t care.

Yesterday the NSA dropped by our home to inspect our laptops, look at our streaming history, and recharge our ankle bracelets. They asked our five-year-old if we’d ever abused him verbally, owned any firearms, or in any way discouraged him from becoming a girl. He said no. That was a close call. We understand that people who looked like us ruined the world with imperialism, colonialism, slavery, and professional football. We agree - it’s all true. But in private, when the agents are gone, after we disable all their microphones and cameras, we huddle together and whisper - we don’t care.