What do I get?

“Butch! Butch! Hey, wake up, dueshbag.” (She gives him a kick to the shins).

Butch groans, and slowly wakes up.


“What do you want?”


“Do you still love me, buttwipe? ‘cause I had a really shitty dream that you was seeing that rich faggot

Jimmy behind my back. If that were true, I’d kill him, then you!” Butch’s blood froze, but he knew how to

Placate a hormonal girlfriend.


“P, why would I want to see Jimmy when I have a great babe like you? I don’t need him. I’m just using him

for booze and food. That’s all. If he’s dumb enough to buy me stuff, why not let him? I’m not gonna fall in

love with him, or anything.”


POM blinked through her crusty eye makeup.


“If I thought you was lettin’ that rich faggot have you, I’d gut you’se like a rotten fish.”

I’m used to rotten fist by now, my sweet-smelling little peony. After all, I sleep with you every night, Butch

thought, then said, “Don’t worries about it, luv. It’s strictly business.


POM grabbed Butch by the padlocked chain around his neck and got in his face.


“If I ever learns ya’s ----ing Jimmy, I’ll beat the ---- out’a’ya’s. Then I’ll set his house on fire.”

I don’t care if they send me’s back to goal, I’ll do it, I will,” she exclaimed, breathing her foul onions-and-

cheese plus homemade vodka breath in Butch’s face.


Butch recoiled at the stench, and then smiled his best shit-eating grin.


“Don’t worries, luv. I only get’s it up for you.”


Then something toxic exploded in the air, causing everyone in the squat to wake up disgusted.


“Cor! ---- me blind! What did you eat, POM?”



Several other punkers groaned and swore as the odor wafted in the air.

Slits got up to open a window when her boyfriend Rancid slapped her.

“Don’t do that, you stupid bint! If the cops see us livin’ ‘ere, they’ll bust us for squatting! You should know

that by now.


“But I can’t stand the smell,” she whined. “POM’s always gassing and farting all night. That is, when she’s

not gnashing her teeth and swearing in ‘er sleep. I hate her!”


“You like how she protects you in fights,” Rancid exclaimed.


“Yeah, suburbia. Remember who’s in charge here,” POM said as she got up on her haunches and stepped

over some sleeping punkers and headed to filthy kitchen. Slits said something obscene under her breath and

snuggled up next to Rancid in their filthy sleeping bag. “Suburbia” was Slit’s unofficial nickname. She was

called ‘Slits’ because she cut herself, and Suburbia because she hailed from a rich suburb. She came to

London to escape her abusive family, and wound up a homeless gutter punk. Her’s was a typical story for

this gang.


“---- off, all of you! It’s not as if we ‘ave some big important business meeting to go to in the morning,”

POM said as she chomped on a mouth full of old pizza. Some of the punkers laughed and made fun of

Businessmen making phone calls. POM took her cigarette lighter and lit a candle. She waved her fat arms

around to scatter the cockroaches and rats from the week-old pizza they had been saving and shoveled food

into her gapping maw, shoveling in chocolates and old pizza that a Pinter’s rat was feeding off of. She tells

something obscene, and it nips at her before scurrying away.

She curses about something as she shoveled the food in.


Although he had seen the revolting image of POM gorging herself dozens of times, Butch looked on in

disgust. He remembers back to the time he had lunch with Jimmy at some pizza dive, and how neat Jimmy

was. Being an upper-class boy, he even used a knife and fork to cut up his slice! God, table manners are so

refreshing, compared to what I’m used to, Butch thought.

He wondered how wonderful it was to kiss someone who brushed and flossed their teeth everyday.

For the thousandth time today, he wished he wasn’t homeless. He wished he was back in Jimmy’s upper-

Class home, sitting on a luxurious bed – with a mattress and clean sheets! – listening to his red-headed

Nerdy boyfriend talk about something trivial. Something only people with sanitized homes and had all their basic needs met would worry about –school gossip, or something barely worth mentioning. He marveled at the difference between their worlds. Or one of Jimmy’s stupid intellectual pursuits, like astronomy, or something. Something only people with their basic survival needs would worry about.
Butch wondered what a cute kid like Jimmy saw in him? Was he just
Just another of Jimmy’s expensive pets? Upper-class teenagers usually don’t adopt punk rockers. Let alone feed and bathe them.

Butch made himself comfortable on the floor and snuggled between the filthy sleeping blankets. He ought to get at least a half hour of silence in before POM came back to bed, lethargic and engorged with sweets. He knew he was in for another hour or two of hearing her swear fart, POM’s usual bedtime routine.
He thought about how if he woke up early and beat the other punkers to their usual panhandling corner, he would see his beloved boy as he walked to school in the morning with his nerd friends. While the other nerds ran away, wisely – Butch thought to himself – Jimmy always gave Butch a pound for tea and asked him about his life. I mean, come on! How naïve do you have to be to get a free cuppa off the one rich bloke who also seems like a hell of a nice guy? Butch thought about that. If I play me cards right, he thought, maybe I can get him to take me home! He’d let me use the shower and I can finally get clean for the first time in weeks! Butch moaned in pleasure at the thought.

“Knock off that wanking, Butch! Some of us is tryin’ ta sleep!” Rancid complained and threw an empty beer can at him. Butch easily dodged the object and went back to his daydreaming.
He wondered what his dream boyfriend was doing right now. Probably staying up all night, gulping cold tea and sweating over his Calculus homework. Jimmy was an honor student, and had to keep his grades up to play football . He wondered what it would be like to make love to Jimmy’s long, lean, lithe body.
What it would be like to smell a clean young man at the prime moment of arousal. His cock grew at the thought of it.

(Continued in Part 2).