Recently I found the obituary of my best friend from high school, Dennis (January 30, 1942 – October 10, 2023), dated almost a year ago. All through this past year, I’d had a sneaky feeling he’d probably passed on. We hadn’t been in contact for a couple years—ever since I wrote that I’d always wished he were my brother. Denny replied that we’d always be brothers—in Christ. While not exactly the terminology I had in mind, I took it in the intimate spirit intended.

In those years since 1960 after we parted, Dennis now lives on only in the memories of his wife, children, and grandchildren as the Navy guy, new husband and family man, long-time worker in the paper mill in Ashdown, retiree with work-related Parkinson’s, and a happy fisherman out in the backwoods of Arkansas. May they long remember him, but I know how quickly fond family memories can fade away to ancient photographs or vague anecdotes, even in one year.

Over those years, I visited Denny a few times, first in the mid-70’s when we were both still young. At his new house I briefly saw his teenaged son (his spitting image), and at the paper mill we had a few fond moments together. Our next meeting was around our 50^th class reunion (2010) when we rode on a parade float together. Some years later, I met him and his wife Esther at a fishing camp at White Cliffs, and on yet another drive-by I stopped in at their new house. I was sorely distressed by my friend’s Parkinson’s affliction, but he seemed to be medicating it well.

We had only two early years together when my Denny was the handsome high school boy, Halloween King, volley-ball player, joker, and unspeakably sexy tease. Now that teenaged Halloween King is mine and mine alone, like the heroic ephebe on a Grecian urn, eternally young and incorruptible. With Denny’s passing one year ago, my old novella BAT IN A WHIRLWIND has now become a veritable monument to my beloved best buddy, our newly true love story. With no one to refute my blatant fictions, the adolescent passions of our avatars Danny and Ben are for all intents and purposes factual history.

Here follow some preview scenes. For our whole love story and poignant memories of Denny, please read the book.

1. THE CHASE

            Along the parking area in front of the café there was this huge chain strung up between big cement posts. They were sitting on the great links down by the rosebush. I sat next to Danny so my leg pushed up against his. He threw his arm over my shoulder and squeezed my neck. It felt so good I thought I was going to faint, but then I realized it was the smelly cigar.

            They were talking about Terry’s hot ’57 Chevy parked right there in front of us, all shiny and black. Naturally I myself knew nothing about cars beyond what I could read on the hood. But I felt perfectly content listening to my good buddy chatter about whatever, as long as he kept his arm around my neck.

            When Terry went back inside for a snack, Danny punched me on the arm, and I chased him across the road to our Desoto, down the way to the Phillips 66 station and around the pumps, back across the highway, up past the café, and around some cars. He finally let me catch him around the corner where Melvin, the night cook, parked his new red Plymouth. We collapsed on its shiny hood, breathless from running and laughing.

#

2. AT SCHOOL

At school I waited out front for Danny. He came ambling up the walk under the oak trees whistling “Red River Valley.” He was so hot-looking it should be illegal. Danny’s flattop was a shade darker than mine with just a hint of a ducktail in back. That point of hair on his nape didn’t look sissy at all. Actually, it was pretty darned sexy.

He had to go to the office and get him a newspaper article for Civics class. I already had mine, a short thing about Congress passing some bill. Afterwards, we hung out by the lockers, and he leaned lazily up against one. Something made me poke his stomach. Wiggling his hips, he asked, “Want something?” Then he blushed like crazy, his cheeks the color of cherries…

Going to our regular assembly seats, now on the very first row being seniors, he brushed my face with his red sweater in passing, and I caught a brief flower-like fragrance. Waiting for the assembly to start, Danny looked over at Betty Lou with intense carnal interest. I whispered, “There’s a little muscle in your cheek that’s quivering.”

He didn’t take his eyes off of her and said, “That ain’t the only one. Boy, I could make do with just half of her.”

Deadpan, I asked, “Right or left?” Danny cracked up.

#

3. THE INDIAN WELL

            Noticing the shallow Indian well full of leaves, Danny said it sure looked like a great place for a nap. So, I pushed him in, and he pulled me tumbling after. Wrestling around, I took to tickling Danny in the ribs, and he struggled, laughing and begging me to quit. Tears glistened in his brown eyes. When I stopped, he instantly jumped me and pinned me flat on my back, knees on my elbows so I couldn’t tickle anymore.

            Danny leaned over me, grinning mischievously, and stroked my furry cheek. “I love your fuzz,” he said, laughed, and asked, “Wanna know what I wished?” I nodded. “Here, I’ll show you,” he said with a sly smile and popped open the buttons on his fly. His pecker stood right up in the air, maybe six inches from my nose, a lot bigger than mine. He moaned and said, “My balls are about to explode!”

            All my blessed bliss of the day was blown away by his cock sticking out of his pants like a dark-headed snake. How could temptation ambush me so soon after being made pure again? Why did the devil use my beloved friend to lure me into sin? When Danny started touching himself impurely, I struggled out from under him, protesting that what he was doing was a sin.

            “Maybe for you, Benny babe,” he said, rolling over in the leaves, and kept on moving his hand. “But I think it’s like a little bit of heaven.”

            “Well, I’m not going to watch,” I protested in a fit of virtue and walked over to stare at the trunk of the white oak. Hearing Danny’s sweet groans, I had to struggle not to get hard myself. Listening to a bird singing somewhere didn’t help. Then a deep grunt.

            When Danny climbed out of the leaf-well, he was handsomer than ever, his eyes brown and shining. How could I love him so much in spite of his sinful ways? I rumpled his soft hair to show I loved him anyway.

###