Triston drove, Bobby was in the passenger seat, Darrell, Walter, and Spencer were in the backseat, shoulder to shoulder. Spencer was having second thoughts about coming along with them on this exercise of immaturity, not just because he was crammed in the backseat but because of what they were going to do.
They were meeting up with Triston’s coworker, Cheryl, and her friend Doug at an old strip mall in Virginia to, of all things, toss dildos. The sex toys, over thirty of them, had been pulled from the shelves for destruction by the manufacturer for their possible toxic elements. Triston and Cheryl had diligently pulled them from the shelves, bagged them, and taken them out to the dumpster where Triston hesitated before throwing them inside. He said that he thought it was a waste and even if they couldn’t be used for the intended purposes there could be something else done with them.
Cheryl and Triston went back inside trying to think of nonsexual things to do with the toys. At first they had thought of ridiculous things like building a monument, then political as they thought about mailing them to bigot, homophobic politicians and preachers but they worried about being arrested for a federal crime of misuse of the postal service.
Eventually someone said something about a dildo flying through the air, and each of them had an idea for how best it could be done. Triston wanted to make a ballista type device and Cheryl wanted to make a simple slingshot using medical grade rubber tubing. Rather than work together it became a competition.
Spencer let out a groan when he felt Walter’s elbow in his side. It wasn’t just going along but being crammed in the backseat of his own car for almost an hour. The last time he had been there was a decade ago and everyone was much smaller then, including Darrell who had gained muscle, if not a little fat since then. He pushed back at Walter’s elbow, unintentionally pushing him into Darrell who groaned and pushed back.
“Hey guys, I’m the one stuck in the middle here,” Walter said.
“Behave yourselves boys or there will be no ice cream,” Triston said.
“Why do I feel like the wife?” Bobby asked.
Walter opened his mouth to speak but as he felt Darrell and Spencer beside him he decided to not say anything, even if it was funny.
“We’re almost there,” Triston said. “There it is.”
Triston pulled into the parking lot and drove over the barely remaining lines of parking spaces, past the buildings and to a back area where he had planned to meet Cheryl. She was there but so was another car.
“Did she bring someone else?” Bobby asked.
“She didn’t say she was going to bring someone else,” Triston said.
He stopped the car and that’s when they all heard it, yelling and the sounds of skateboard wheels on concrete then along a steel pipe. They looked to the corner of a building where a young man launched from a railing to the ground, raised his arms in triumph and skated out before he circled back.
“Well, I have to get out,” Spencer said.
Everyone got out of the car and began to stretch. Cheryl and Doug joined them. Triston and Cheryl began to talk amongst themselves but they were all thinking the same thing, young, male, and skateboarders. They had all imagined there wouldn’t be anyone else at the strip mall and they could carry out their impish, if not childish activity without the judgment of people, especially straights.
“Maybe it’ll be okay,” Bobby said.
“They might just leave us alone,” Spencer said.
“I’ll go see what they’re like,” Walter said.
He walked away from the group, but Darrell feeling a need to protect him followed, then Bobby, Spencer, and Doug leaving Triston and Cheryl together for a moment before they also followed. They walked along the side of the building and reformed into a group at the corner where Walter stopped to make sure no one would come flying by.
At the back of the building was a long run that had been used for loading and unloading, where they stood was stairs with a railing perfect for grinds. Six skateboarders were at the beginning of the long run smoking and goofing around with each other, oblivious until one of them noticed the group.
“Hi there,” Walter said with a little wave of his hand.
The skateboarders talked amongst themselves for a moment before sending two representatives to meet them. The two young men were skinny with baggy jeans that hung loose around their waists. They had tattoos and piercings.
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