Reciprocity - Part I

Since I've revealed to you in great detail the occurrences leading to and maintaining my fraternity with Dean Simon, I feel it is all but necessary (and fair) to continue the tradition by moving on to the subject of another cousin of mine, John.

John began life, like Dean, in the wonderful province of New Jersey. As a child, John often dreamt of making it big on Broadway. The idea of himself concluding a showing of Cats, revealed by parting black velvet curtains to a grateful, adoring, lusting audience titillated and delighted John's confused, adolescent mind. Motivated by his love of the stage, yet troubled by the frustrations of his cloudy concept of his own sexuality, John fled to the calm of a small village in upstate New York. It would be here that he'd come to my aid while I lay near death in the depths of the forest. But I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

When I met Johnny, he was so small, so fragile. The bond we forged was in many respects paternal in nature, for John had lost his true father to a horrifying combination of amphetamine abuse, alcoholism, and an all-to-frequent habit of verbally expressing a hatred of "the po-po." His father's death haunted Johnny endlessly. Numerous sleepless nights I spent consoling my new disciple. "John, it wasn't the booze that killed your father, it wasn't the speed, it wasn't the police. John... it was himself."


More on this later.