Ukies -- 29. Fake Boobs

Fake Boobs

Everyone was stunned when big-titted Olga appeared flat-chested one day -- her big tits had been taken out by an angry disbelieving nun who made her disrobe and show if the huge tits were real or not. Surprisingly, there wasn’t mad outrage from Olga, who took it all in stride.

“Hey, I don’t care,” she said and lit a cigarette. “It just proves they’re all a bunch of lezzies.”

“Ha ha!” laughed Petro. “You’re a fake, just like your tits!”

They glared at each other and she said, “Is that why you were after me, you jerk?” And she walked away, her school skirt swaying at her knees.

Shit! I thought. She was nothing but a fake!

I went home and lay down and stared at the turned-off TV. Pretty soon my dick was hard and pushing at my pants. I thought about her non-existent breasts and finally had to grin. She wasn’t bothered by it at all; you would think there’d be embarrassment and shame but Olga just shrugged and walked proudly off.

I jerked off three times that evening and got to like her very much after that. I noticed that the other girls were friendlier towards her too…All fake things gotta go, I thought….Whomp whomp whomp…

###

Ukies--28. Two Timer?

Two Timer?

Again I had seen Olena with strange guys on the Lower East Side, once on Avenue B and once on Avenue C and I knew that something shady was going on, but what?

It was a harsh winter that year; snow almost every week and a frigid cold that didn’t seem to let up. Going to and from school was more than enough, no one wanted to hang out anymore, except Olena, I guess…

I had seen her over time in the Village and played her game of picking her up, as if we were strangers and didn’t know each other, and I kind of liked it too. Sometimes we’d sit in Sheridan movie house and kiss like lovers and twice she had given me a hand-job (accidentally, I’m sure), which had me feverishly jerking off even more when I was alone from her.

Sometimes in class I’d stare off into space dreaming of Olena while she sat at the other end of the room until the nun would smack my head and scream, “I’m talking to you!” which would send my classmates into roars of laughter at how stupid I really was.

But that day I followed Olena after school to Avenue C, staying a block behind her, and the cold kept people off the streets, so it was easy to see her in the distance. Surprisingly, a guy stood out in the cold, just as I had seen another guy stand last week on Avenue B. Was this another of her game-playing lovers that I was finally getting aware of? But they didn’t spend much time together and parted as quickly as they met. She turned about and was walking back in the direction I was coming in.

Damn! Maybe if I lowered my head she would not see or recognize me? How would I explain what I was doing in the area? I saw her boots coming closer. “Kolya?” I heard her say. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

We looked at each other, the puffs of air coming out with out breathes. “Going to my grandmother’s house,” I lied. “Why the fuck are you here?”

Even in the cold there was a pleasant smile on her lips. “Marijuana,” she whispered and winked, looking around her. “God, I’m cold!” and she shivered, and looked at me as if expecting me to come closer and hold her.

I didn’t, but looked at her somewhat relieved, somewhat nervous that she was doing drugs that were used by Puerto Rican junkies, but what the hell did I know about it anyway. “OK,” I said, wanting so much to hold her.

She stared at me, then shrugged and trailed off down the street. I walked a block then took another street back home.

Damn, it was cold as hell! But I should’ve held her anyway, I knew that then but didn’t….Home seemed farther off than it was….

###

Ukies--27. Standing

Standing

As usual, I was standing and waiting outside of the Teacher’s Lounge for Mrs. Buzzi to come as I had to escort her back to the 7^th grade class…or was she escorting me? Aw hell, I didn’t know….

It was still early and I had about a half hour to wait. As usual, I was mad at the entire thing. My friends were downstairs, laughing, gabbing, acting ridiculous as I stood here alone, resentful, looking foolish to any passer by, normally goddamn teachers.

Mr. Dalekoczac was the ugly old Ukrainian teacher. My father had always said, “You better be nice to him, or you’ll get it.” And he’d wave his finger at me as if he was teaching me a secret lesson that only he and Dalekoczak knew about.

Just as my father, and the parents of other kids in school, Mr. Dalekoczak had been a prisoner of war under the Nazis and of course he suffered for it…But he survived and became a teacher who during Christmas time was collecting gifts for himself; the old routine we practiced was our parents would give presents to the teachers and the teachers would give us good goods. Weird, but that’s the way things worked in those times…

Well Myron, who sat next to me, didn’t have any gift for Dalekoczak, his parents were too poor, but Myron wanted a good grade, as he knew his grades barely passable. So he found a Christmas card somewhere and signed his parents name in it and gave it up for Dalekoczak’s collection.

Dalekoczak opened the cards one by one, took the money that was there for him and gave a little booklet as a keepsake in return, Yurza Murza, about a smart alecky kid who got a licking from adults was his favorite to give to the kids…we smart-assed kids thought otherwise….

Dalekocsak eventually got to Myron’s envelope and pulled out the empty moneyless card. A look of confusion fell upon his face as he stared at Myron. His face quickly turned to anger and he crumpled the empty card up, cursed, glared at Myron then went on to the next money-filled offer.

What a bastard, I thought, as now I saw him march down the hall. Firm chest under stiff posture that reminded me of the Nazi films I saw instead of him being a victim. He came up to me and looked me up and down, as if looking for something wrong he could criticize.

“You here again?” he said in Ukrainian.

I answered Yes, waiting for Mrs. Buzzi. She’s gonna take me back to class, but I didn’t do nothing, she always picks on me and I don’t know why I’m out here every day…

Dalekoczak angrily shook his head and began berating me for messing up the language, using propositions and adverbs instead of nouns as he had spent teaching us. “Hivno ne znayesh!” he cursed, You don’t know shit! and he stormed off into the Teacher’s Lounge.

I cursed to myself and went on standing, looking after him, thinking, pondering….and waiting…and waiting…always waiting….

###

Ukies--26. Snowballers

Snowballers

The entrance to the school building was on a side street, Hall Place, but the main entrance was at the front, 6^th Street, and seemed to be reserved for priests and nuns and visitors from outside. At night some big boys would walk by and take a leak in the doorway/alcove but mostly it was already stained with piss and vomit from the nearby McSorley’s Ale House across from Hall Place on 7^th street, whose patrons seemed to take a beer-piss as they staggered away from their drunken escapades.

The school en-fenced the alcove to stop this thing from happening but one morning they found a drunkard who had climbed over the fence, took his piss, and immediately fell asleep in the safe haven of the school.

One snowy Friday evening as the school was holding its Teen Hop festivities; I was in a doorway across the street with Petro and making snowballs to sling at the dancers as they came out from their dance. A few drinkers walked out of their way from McSorley’s but they seemed to ignore us as we did them.

It was fun talking about who we were going to get --each had a favorite-- but the question of why we hadn’t gone in and taken our chances and shared a dance with our favorites just never did come up. We were going to share love with the girls we wanted by a snowball thrown at them in the night.

We paced and talked and laughed as the do-wop music echoed in the night from the dance hall in school. Suddenly the door opened and out came a boy and girl, the boy wearing a winter overcoat and the girl protected by one of hers over a bouffant dress she had on.

Petro lobed a snowball at them even before I knew what he was doing. It flew across the air but landed uselessly on the snow covered sidewalk near them. Right away he threw another; we had made a mountain of snowballs just for the occasion. I was right behind him as another couple exited the dance floor and found themselves buried by a fuselage of snowy-filled bombardment. They ran down the street and me and Petro laughed and laughed as still others came out and got the same from us.

All of a sudden Petro took a snowball in the side of his face; now who could have thrown that? Another snowball came flying at us barely striking me as still another was lobed at us…thrown by a laughing pair of drunken guys who had just downed a few and exited McSorley’s. Their snowballs at us were thrown a lot harder and faster, there were adults after all; Petro and I took off down the street away from the drunken snowballers.

We separated on the corner, mumbling at the creeps who had destroyed our fun and each going his own way through the snow…to go home…each dreaming about the girls we were after… and masturbate…

###

Ukies--25. Learning Fast

Learning Fast

For the third time I had seen Olena and she acted like she didn’t know me. The first few times were puzzling but when I saw her on 11^th street in the Village and she didn’t recognize me I let her have it.

“You bitch!” I fumed. “You know damned well who you’re looking at!”

She just shrugged, stared at me, shaking her head and went down 7^th avenue. If I had been a few steps after her I’d have caught up to her but the crowd buried her like it was a New Year’s Eve crowd I was in and she drifted out of view.

The next day I saw her on Avenue A. “Bitch!” I said, as she passed.

“Fag!” she causally answered.

I turned red. “Why do you make believe you don’t know me,” I said, “When here, on 7^th Street, you do?”

She looked at me and lit a cigarette. “You don’t know that game, buddy,” she said, blowing out smoke from her lips and nostrils. “When you do…well, then you’ll know.” And she winked at me and turned East on 7^th street.

I looked after her. “Crazy bitch!” I mumbled and went home to jerk off.

A week or so later I was in Washington Square Park when I saw her. “Damned cunt!” I thought, and ignored her as she passed by.

“Excuse me," I heard her say. "Is this the famous park I’ve heard so much about?” she said, looking around. “I’ve always dreamed of visiting.” We looked at each other, and I realized I was seeing her for the first time.

I already felt my hard-on growing. “You need someone who can show you around, young miss?” I said, and winked at her. I stood up.

She giggled. “You learn fast, don’t you?” she said, holding my arm and pressing herself against me.

I was very happy and we went off into the crowded park…

###

Ukies--24. A Present

A Present

The 6^th grade was suddenly pleasant and for the first time in those six years I had a straight non-religious teacher who was so much better than the nuns that had tortured us earlier. Miss Mazola, who was not Ukrainian but I think Italian, was very nice and understanding rather than the nuns who we were used to; but I think their garb did that to them, created despots before their tiny helpless monsters.

And Miss Mazola’s class was a relief, an ahh! a take time out so that we can breathe freely for a year before an even worse teacher befell us. In a way I could feel a sense of no worry on the other kids in class; they’d be more playful and chipper as they’d arrive in the morning and get ready to start their day. Even at the early masses we attended there’d be a feeling of relaxation as we’d all sit down and rise as the mass plodded along.

One spring day Miss Mazola announced that today was her birthday and she had brought presents for everyone: black cowboy wallets for the boys and white wallets for the girls. I was ecstatic, something out of Roy Rogers show on TV! I had that wallet with me for months and months, in my back pocket, as I’m sure the other boys in class had theirs too….Boy, what a treat that was!

Yes, 6^th grade was a delight….Hell came later, in the 7^th grade….

###

Ukies--23. Sammy

Sammy

Sammy took the name from his Ukrainian name, Mykhailo Semenenko, which he didn’t like anyway. He pretended he was actually Puerto Rican and since be lived farther east, near the River, where most of them were starting to live and populate, he had to change his nationality for all intents and purposes. We had many like that on the Lower East Side, pretending to be one nationality while actually being another.

Sammy decorated himself in a bandana, which most Puerto Ricans could be seen in as they’d jitterbug around the neighborhood, and even had a mask which he’d put on his head to look tough or strange, I don’t know which.

But Sammy’s father was a gung-ho Ukrainian when he'd get together with other Ukies but had strangely married to a Puerto Rican woman who gave birth to Sammy -- the usual mixed routine on the Lower East Side. And the father was a tough guy in the neighborhood and, of course, Sammy tried to emulate his father by being tough also.

One time Sammy had words with Dmytro, who was pretty much a tough guy himself.

“Hey, Semen,” said Dmytro to Sammy, who was packing his drums away after rehearsal, and using the derogatory English name which wouldn’t mean anything to a Ukrainian. “I know you don’t play a horn but you still blow!”

The drums went crashing as Sammy ran up to Dmytro. “I’ll kick your ass, you stupid Ukie!”

But Dmytro stood his ground. “You and who else, you stupid fake Spic?”

They glared at each other. “Maricon!” Faggot! spat Sammy, and flicked a push button knife and held it before Dmytro, who just evilly smiled and pulled out a .45 Lugar gun from his horn case, which he got from his dad’s military souvenirs.

I could see Sammy’s lips had grown dry as he just turned and went back to packing his drum case…

I went home, Woulda been nice to touch and hold a Lugar, I thought, sure woulda been nicer….

###

Ukies--22. Gone Away

Gone Away

Olena walked by pissed as hell -- the nuns caught her and she had to get away, but they usually caught someone doing something so it didn’t matter.

“Doing what?” I asked.

She looked at me as if I was an idiot and said, “Oh, never mind…” and walked on down the street.

I hurried my steps and caught up with her. “But what did you do?”

She looked very sad and sniffed her nose, then reached for a pack of cigarettes in her purse. I bit my bottom lip and looked around; we weren’t very far from school and I didn’t want any one seeing us smoking so openly. She offered the open pack to me and I reluctantly took one and we silently walked on.

We came by the church funeral home, a block away, and she said, “Ever have anyone die?”

I looked at the sad façade and shook my head, “No,” I answered, “Is that was happened to you?”

She looked at me and said, “Well, I did,” she said, “Just two days ago,” and she threw her cigarette away. An old Ukrainian woman was standing there as we passed and shook her head; Olena glared at her but said nothing.

“I knew this guy,” she continued, “And was busted for stealing cars; they had a list of maybe ten, fifteen cars that he swiped.” Again she sniffed then said, “He’ll be going away for a long time.”

Is that what happened? I thought. A jail bird? What’s this gotta do with death? But I didn’t say a thing.

On Avenue A we parted; I looked at her walking along the park. What was I supposed to do anyway? I walked home confused…Who the hell died anyway?

###

Ukies--21. Satisfaction

Satisfaction

In the 6^th grade Vasyl told me that girls jerk off as much as boys but they have to stick something in…

“Just look at them,” Vasyl said, “too self satisfied. You tell me that they don’t use Coke bottles? C’mon.”

We were standing on the corner of 8^th street watching the girls walk by to class in the early morning. Most were prettily made up, their hair puffed up high on their heads, but a few were limp and tired looking.

“That’s because they couldn’t get any satisfaction from their hands,” Vasyl said, and nodded his head as if knew what that meant. “They use their fingers like hard dicks,” he explained. “They gotta stick something in, you know,” and he winked his eye.

Down the street we saw Sosia slowly walking towards us. Her schoolbag was forlornly held by her hand at her side and she didn’t look together at all.

“Wow,” Vasyl whispered. “She hasn’t had any satisfaction in a long while.”

I looked at her, a real mess but of course her father had died last week and was buried so maybe that was it. I mentioned this to Vasyl.

“Sex is a lot stronger than death,” he said, but loud enough for Sosia to have heard. “Sex, that’s what they’re after,” and he turned and walked off to school.

I felt like an idiot; Sosia sadly looked at me and also walked to school…I wanted to walk the other way but didn’t…I went to school after them.

###

Ukies--20. Third Grade

Third grade

I was in the 3rd grade and acting very rambunctious and always getting into trouble. We were in the old school building on Avenue B and 9^th Street before they built up and finished with the new one on 6^th Street and Hall Place, off 3^rd Avenue. I had to tread my way to and from school every day along 1^st Avenue and 5^th Street and head east but many had to take similar longer walks along the Lower East Side streets.

One warm spring day we were sitting as the nun was teaching class. It being a warm day the nun told those sitting near the fire door to open it and get some air in. Suddenly five boys raced from their seats to tear the door open, but somehow it slammed back shut as ten little arms tried to hold it open to no avail. A vicious cry burst from a little boy and since I was the closest to him I was grabbed by the nun and angrily shook as if I was the one who had forced the door to swing shut.

Needless to say, the boy was freed from the slammed door and my parents were called in to take their cruel and evil sadistic son home. Of course there were doctor’s bills for the victim, who wasn’t so badly hurt after all, just a rough scratch and tears of surprise from him but of course as a little kid he had to show off his hurt to the adults around him…and which I had to bear the brunt of what I did.

Anyway, he liked being a victim and got away with alot after that…Poor victim, sure sure….

###

Ukies--19. Watching Olena

Watching Olena

More and more I was getting bored of the neighborhood, the people, the kids, the do-nothingness and wandered off on my own. It was a hot sunny day, when I headed uptown along Park Avenue South -- the name intrigued me, it was where the rich lived, I thought, but I didn’t see any rich people here. Oh sure, somewhat better dressed, like it was a Sunday, with men in suits and ties and women in their secretarial dresses, but for them it was just another work day like any other day.

I started walking up at S. Klein’s department store on 14^th street, past the Union Square Park with its Commie speechmakers, and walked further up, just a kid out of place and going nowhere.

On 34^th street I came upon the old castle-like Armory that stood as a fort guarding a hill, but here in NYC there weren’t any hills to be guarded, maybe at one time there were, so I just shrugged, walked and crossed the avenue.

Right away I sensed a difference about where I was; taller buildings and most with doormen standing in the front as if a sentry you had to pass through to get in, and cleaner too.

Then I saw Olena coming out of a Horn & Hardart’s restaurant on 42^nd street. I was surprised but still was a block away and just slowed my pace as I trailed after her. The crowd of people was a lot heavier here but her short sleeved yellow blouse and white skirt swaying behind her was easy to follow in the drab colorless clothes that teemed around her.

I smirked; watching her was like watching a movie and waiting for the good part, I thought, one never knew what would happen next.

She walked west on 42^nd, pausing to look in a storefront windows but nothing caught her attention to get drawn into a store; just taking a nice stroll along a crowded busy street --as I was doing behind her, though some distance away.

I smirked again when she crossed 5^th Avenue; I suspected I knew where she was going, to a Times Square movie house, where else? But she climbed the steps into a park mid-block along the way and I thought I had lost her when I saw her sitting on a bench and looking right at me as if she knew I’d be there. Her white skirt had risen above her knees and under one leg I could see the dark stocking around her thigh with just a hint of the garter belt peeking out from where it held her.

“Oh, hi Olena,” I said, feigning surprise, “Funny meeting you here.” She was wearing lipstick with makeup, and that made her look a lot older. But she didn’t say anything just glared at me with disgust, then stood up, glancing at a guy sitting on the same bench, and walked out of the park. I watched the top of her head as she disappeared down 42^nd Street...strange but the guy followed after her.

I sat awhile, cursing to myself, then headed back downtown….

The temperature was in the 90s…Too bad girls have to wear nylons on hot days like this, I thought, as I watched some pretty secretaries pass by and imagined them wearing nylons too. Yeah, too bad, but I really didn’t give a shit….I went up to my buildings roof…it was nice there, for a change.

###

Ukies--18. Nazi Priest?

Nazi Priest?

Lunch time was a treat -- you could sit where you wanted most of the times, well, kind of….The nuns always interrupted us and broke Pavlo and me apart whenever we got too loud or rowdy. And Pavlo was always in trouble…I got in a food fight with him and the nuns dragged us apart and we had to stand in the hall.

He was only half Ukrainian on his mother’s side, on the father’s German side he was nothing but a Nazi, which the boys talked about but none of us ever knew for sure. Many of our parents had been beaten and tortured by the Nazis and we were sure Pavlo’s dad was a mean bastard, but none of dared mention it to him.

After the usual banter of who’s a sissy and a fag I called Pavlo a Nazi. “You’re a Nazi,” I said, expecting angry denial but he looked at me and said, “Yeah? So what?” And he raised his arm in a Heil Hitler salute and stood there. Was I supposed to salute him in return? Was this a game he was playing? When out of the door leading to the teacher’s lounge came Father Josophat, his face reddening, looking angry and fuming…as if he’d been caught after years of being successfully hidden…which we all suspected he’d been doing anyway…

Much later I still thought about that uneasy moment; was Pavlo showing off he was a Nazi to the now-priest or saluting someone who he actually knew was one?

But I’ll never know…no love in them or from them…so it’s best that I forget it...well....

###

Ukies--17. Snowy Day

Snowy day

The snow fell steadily and heavily throughout the night and still kept snowing when the morning eased into the day. My mother let me sleep; had heard it twice on the radio that school was cancelled. When I awoke I was ecstatic that the blizzard had caused this and outside people were shoveling as they tried to move their cars around but got nowhere.

It was great, today was a Friday and that meant another day off for the weekend. Anyway, I hated school and was very lucky that meant a day off from that hellhole. I was ten years old and when you’re a kid a day off is an eternity but why shouldn’t it be?

By noontime the worst was over, little flecks still came down, but the sun had revealed itself and it showed that hope still existed. I trod out there, all bundled up in boots and scarves and hat, ready to meet the end of the snowy day.

Mountains and mountains had been piled up along 1^st Avenue and people struggled down a slim path from store to store picking up any goods or produce. A few slipped and fell as they trod down the street and were helped up and went on their way. I made it to Avenue A and with some difficulty to Tompkins Square Park, stretching from 7^th street to 10^th street. Usually the park was like an unexplored forest of crooks and crags but now it was a snowy white puzzle of mysteries…who knew what would be revealed there?

With each step into the park I took I felt as if I was going deeper and deeper into the Artic, an unknown snow-filled realm but I had played and ran in this park like it was my own playground, and in a way it was….

After a few hours of walking back and forth, pretending I was in the snowy Himalayas, near 10^th street I saw a kid just like me, all covered up in his coat and scarf and hat, slowly walking, heedlessly climbing, recklessly falling until he started all over again. Maybe 10 years old, just like me but I saw that he was from another school in the neighborhood -- never had seen him in mine. Then I noticed he had spotted me as well. Somewhere in that moment a look of recognition fell upon us, as if we were alone in this park and no one could tell us what to do.

I saw the boy bending down and making a snowball; I did the same.

For a moment we looked at each other, as if judging the other’s power and strength, then let the snowballs fly. With a nervous look I watched the two missiles fly across the air, pass each other in space, then fall without striking the other target.

It was fun, as he made another snowball and let it fly at me; I did the same to him. Some found their mark, others didn’t, until I had made so many snowballs and flung them at him that the snow around me had cleared somewhat and almost reached the black dirt beneath me…

That’s was when I saw it…a rock wet with snow but pretty thick.

I smirked to myself, this’ll show him, I thought, making a snowball with the rock embedded in the center.

I stood up, he still was making another one, and I flung the rocky snowball in his direction. I saw it tear through the air…and come down…heedlessly falling…right in his face!

In the desolate silence of that snow-filled day I heard a cry, as if tearing through me. If this had been a contest there is no way on earth my missile would have found its mark as it did but this was not a contest my rock had soared through the air and landed in a face, a face now shattered and broken….

I watched him fall to his knees and cry and moan -- at least I think he did. I saw a man close to the boy look in my direction as he approached the fallen boy…

I turned around and bolted through the snow to get out of there…I ran….

###

Ukies--16. Neighborhood Fag

Neighborhood Fag

Vinnie lived in the neighborhood and it was clear what he was, a fag, that the kids taunted and made fun of him as he skipped by on the streets. But the taunting was good natured and it was interesting how red and embarrassed I’d turn as we all called after him “Faggot!” then run away down the street, laughing and teasing each other to go back to him.

Vinnie was a hairdresser who ran his business from his apartment, just one flight up the stairs. Many older women paid him a call and his place was always packed with women gossiping and waiting their turns to get preened over.

I had heard he’d pay an easy five bucks for just sitting there as he’d blow you but I never knew of guy who did that; at least no one admitted that they did it. I sure was glad that no one saw how hard I had gotten, as they’d laugh and smirk over how much money Vinnie would give them.

Hell, but five dollars? I said to myself, intrigued over the easy money I could get. I wasn’t getting that nowhere else, that’s for sure.

I knew Vinnie took off on Saturday afternoons -- learned this from the guys -- so at 3pm I was standing in the outside doorway next to his, watching a woman leave his house; I knew that this was a customer, her hair was expertly made up that it looked like she was going out for the night, dancing and drinking…or something, but definitely screwing.

I smoked two more cigarettes -- that should have given him enough time -- and entered his building.

The smell of perfume and hairspray was prevalent with each step I took up and neared his door. But the smell of women who had been there made my approach more enticing and alluring. My dick was hard and eager and if I just concentrated on that, how women smell, I’m sure I would let him suck and kiss me all night long, as long as my eyes would be kept closed. If I can’t see what he’s doing than it ain’t happening, right?

I listened; faint music hummed through the door which only added to the sexual tension I was feeling. I gently knocked on the door, waited an instant then knocked again, louder and firmer. I heard gentle footsteps shuffling to the door -- I thought of things feminine. The door opened…

Vinnie stood in a robe; his face creamed and adorned with makeup, something I had never seen a man in before and for a moment was surprised.

“Oh, my,” he said, all flustered. “But I can’t do you now, sweetie,” looking me up and down, but he gushed, “I’m waiting for my beau.” And he winked at me. “Come back another time, sweetie, like tomorrow, late afternoon.”

There was nothing to do but shrug and turn around and head back down…

But I still recall the scent of perfumes that were prevalent through the hall as I passed through the door and went back outside…

A pity I never dared to go back…I still think about what if I did?

###

Ukies--15. Pavlo/Paulie

Pavlo/Paulie

And Pavlo -- who that year had begun calling himself Paulie -- had it in for the other kids in class. By the 7^th grade he had formed into a natural bully that most kids in class just avoided or kept out of his way. Except Olena, she wasn’t afraid of him one bit.

One day after class she was walking down the street with her friends when Paulie called out after her, “Hey baby, shake those tits!”

Olena stopped and turned around, “What? Dreaming of shaking your dick?” That brought laugher and giggles from the other girls around her.

I could see Paulie was pissed; his face turning angry and bitter. “No need,” he answered. “You shake my dick better and it’s still better when you do it with your mouth!”

They glared at each other. “Wanna do it for me?” Paulie smirked at her, slowly un-zippering his pants. We were on 2^nd Avenue and people were walking around us.

Olena snorted. “Do what?” she winked at her friends, “With that tiny little baby thing you call a dick?”

Once more they burst out in laughter, when Paulie lowered his zipper and reached in and pulled out his dick. “Suck on this, you cunt!”

The other girls around Olena turned red and stood blushing at the sight; Olena shook her head and said with scorn, “Little baby, can’t even get it hard, eh?”

A few people were now looking at Paulie with disgust and shaking their heads. “Come on girls,” said Olena, “Let’s leave the little boys to play with themselves.” And she walked off with her friends as Paulie turned red with embarrassment, their laughter echoing down the street.

“I’ll get you,” Pavlo/Paulie shouted after her. “God damned bitch!”

###

Ukies--14. Too Close Together

Too Close Together

The nuns and teachers kept them apart during the school day, except of course when taking their assigned seats which brought into contact with each other. Boys will be boys and girls will be girls said the adage but bring them together and there’s bound to be trouble, on one side or the other

Oxana was a chubby girl and Pylyp was a skinny boy who sat next to her. No one knew it but as Oxana had been goosing him under the desk while Pylyp just sat there, scared as all hell, but not saying a word in protest, I rather think he liked it.

But it was Sister Emilia who one day caught them, seeing Oxana from the back of the room. Sister Emilia was even smaller then Oxana but she ordered the big girl to stand as she gripped the bang of her hair at the side of her head and marched her from the room. Poor Pylyp just sat there not knowing what to do; I think he even cried a bit but not sure, or maybe it was his cold…

They changed Oxana’s seat, having her sit next to Daryna…another meaty girl and they became very good friends. The boys called then lezzies, but Oxana and Dryna were perfect, a pair made in heaven…brought together by the nuns…what else can I say?

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Ukies--13. Andriy and Yuri

Andriy and Yuri

Andriy and Yuri were always together; you would have thought they were boyfriend/girlfriend but they were guy/guy and the only thing missing was their holding hands.

“A bunch of queers!” someone said, to which was added, “Fucking sissy faggots!”

One quiet Saturday morning I was on my bike and went rolling down the East River Park by the Williamsburg Bridge. Was quiet there, just tennis players, a few strollers, and…Andriy and Yuri.

Holy shit!

I slowed when I saw them and stood looking from under a tree. Just the two of them there but I felt very awkward; they were holding each other against another tree. Then Andriy stooped down and kissed Yuri on his cheek…I didn’t look any more but I rode away in the opposite direction…

On Monday I saw them in school but they were red-faced and weren’t holding hands as the guys around them laughed and taunted, “Hey, faggot!” over and over…

I never said what I saw them do but joined in the taunting laughter, but my laughs weren’t that, in a way I felt embarrassed and wished I had never seen them…but I had...and never thought of why I had an erection too…

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Ukies--12. Ukrainian Christmas

Ukrainian Christmas

Ukrainian Christmas fell on January 7^th unlike the American December 25^th. It was the old tradition our parents respected and adhered to, but more and more we began to follow the American routine.

Oleksandr had a thing for Sosya. He had gotten her a present, but what? We didn’t know, still we were sure that on Ukrainian Christmas he’d be standing with his gift before him. Needless to say, that Christmas Eve, on the last of a school day, she thought he was jerk and tossed his gift the trash from which Oleksandr retrieved it and skulked away.

It happened like this: January 7^th fell on a Friday that year and though we had off from school we still had to show up for Holy Mass that day. It was nice having the rest of the day for gift-giving and family visiting. But smirkingly, we all had our eyes peeled for Oleksandr and Sosya.

Sosya was already there, sitting patiently in the girl’s section, when Oleksandr walked in and trod to the boy’s section in church. Their pews were filled with students and mass begun, was celebrated, and came to an end. Everybody was getting up and leaving the church when Oleksandr’s voice rang out, “Xryctoc razdayetsha!” Christ is born!

People stopped in their place and looked at each other, then smiled, greeted each other and went on with what they were doing. But Oleksandr did not wait for Sosya, he disappeared in the crowd of people leaving the church.

Weird, but Oleksandr left Sosya alone after that, not buying her gifts anymore.

Do people change that suddenly? Overnight?

Guess they do…

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Ukies--11. Seventh Grade Waste

7^th grade waste

Seventh grade was a waste! I had made the drum corps try outs and was very proud, practicing diligently, pretending I was blowing my head off on a bugle, or so I pretended, till I saw sparks before my eyes, my head and lungs aching and hurting.

That year I had Mrs. Buzzi as teacher and the fact that I had made it into the drum corps while her older son didn’t must have caused some resentment from her towards me. Why else would she treat me the way she did? But I didn’t care…the hell with her, I thought, until she stopped me from pretending what our bugles would sound like in a parade and ordered me to follow her to her office -- really a teacher’s lounge that she relaxed in with the other teachers.

Day after day went by while the other kids played and gossiped after lunch I was stuck standing outside of the teacher’s lounge, pacing back and forth. Other teachers walked by, glancing at me curiously, but after they had exited the lounge where they chatted with Mrs. Buzzi, they looked bitterly at me, as if I had done some vicious and wile deed that could only bring about their scorn and abuse.

After about two months of this, I had drifted into the logical psychological role play of being her victim -- quiet, docile and morbid. All interest in anything outside of me was for nothing. I came to class, was laughed at and taunted by the other students, then silently followed Mrs. Buzzi wherever she went….

On the day before Thanksgiving, before we went off for a four day off from school, Mrs. Buzzi told me to return to the teacher’s lounge where she had forgotten her purse; she said this loudly in front of the class that the smirks on the faces of my classmates were clear and evident that they heard; I hated them…and most of all her…

I was red-faced as I returned to the lounge -- nothing much, just a room with magazines and reclining chairs for them to rest and prop their feel up. Her purse was on the floor next to a chair, with a chair-bottom that had dragged and fallen down. I could just imagine her sitting there in that comfortable position and even dozing off as she dreamed her teacher dreams. I stooped down to retrieve her purse when I reached down and ran my fingertips along the puffy bottom of the chair. I don’t know what happened but all of a sudden my dick was hard and out of my pants…maybe two, three, four strokes and I spasmed, shooting the jism out onto the chair bottom.

I instantly felt at peace, very relieved and uncaring, and smiling to myself as I spread my jism around then returned to class holding her purse and swinging it back and forth. The rest of the school year that cunning smile never left my face as other nervous teachers commented on my all of a sudden weird expression….they never learned about it.

And Mrs. Buzzi had nothing to say as she sat in her scum stained reclining chair as I stood outside and smirked to myself as the year went slowly by humming drum corps music in my head.

I knew I would never care anymore and I didn’t….

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Ukies--10. Yuri and Wasylyna

Yuri and Wasylyna

Yuri was after her when she first appeared in class with that troubled Eastern European look about her that he found fascinating and intriguing.

“In Europe they have to start learning fast,” he said one day, “giving their bodies for sex.” He rubbed himself. “It’s like taking candy from a baby.”

Day by day we saw him getting closer and closer to Wasylyna but by then she wasn’t so frightened by the rest of the kids, laughing and talking back.

It was in the playground on the roof when it happened. Wasylyna bent down to pick up a scarf she had dropped when Yuri grabbed her by the ass. Many of us who knew Yuri instantly smirked at his boldness and rashness but she struck him in the face and blurted out “Swoloych!” Bastard!

It was a powerful and well aimed wallop that she hit him with and it sent him flying; kids were talking about it for days after. Yuri picked himself up but stayed far from her after that. “They were all Nazis,” he simply said, “What does anyone expect out of them?” But it wasn’t fair, calling her a Nazi. Not fair at all….

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