Thirty six years ago today, one of my favorite BOFH's was born. Baby, I've seen some pretty huge dicks in my life, seen some pretty pretty ones, too. But you are one of the sexiest pricks I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. -grin-

I will forever see your smiling face, three seconds after you deleted the rootpass only to replace it with... discoveranalmystery.

You, me, the boy. This weekend. I'm DD'ing. I'm going to get you both sloppy drunk and take merciless advantage of your prowess. The three of us will smurf NASA and play Quake 3 in the auditorium. With the lights off. At three AM!

Good times, honey. Good times.

This will just have to tide you over until then. Happy birthday, asshole. I love you.

Last night, right about my fourth mile, I run by this seedy little gas station on the corner of Nofuck and Where. There's two little boys standing outside, the tawny blonde one counting silver, while the other, the slightly shorter, hair moppish brown, bounces on the balls of his feet. There's restlessness on the face of the oldest, a deep-set anxiety I recognize, shooting a quick and sorrowful glance at the littler one.

I’m still jogging at this point, something hard and heavy thudding in my ears as I pass, but the scene… it’s like… surreal. So I turn around, smiling, walk casually towards them, the clearly older one stepping forward. Unapproachable. Protective.

“Hey, what are you trying to get?”

“Nothing.” He’s guarded, caged. Like twelve fucking years old, and he’s already constructed a goddamned wall.

I reach into my pocket, pull out my credit card, flip it around between my fingers so it’s magic. “Tell ya what. You tell me what you wanted to get,” and I tilt my head towards the miserable fraction of space trying to call itself a store, “and I’ll go in there and buy it.”

“Naw,” he drawls. “Just… well, my little brother wanted candy.” The way he opens up, little by little, his body relaxing; I’m compelled to just stand there and see how much I can get. Find out why he’s wearing jean shorts that are obviously too small, his brother in a t-shirt three sizes too big. They’re dirty… filthy! Sneakers so worn they’re barely holding their feet.

So I look at his brother, still shy behind the older’s back. “If it was me, I’d go for a Twix. What’d ya want?” I smile slow. Try not to spook the poor thing.

“Snickers!” And he beams… smile full of holes where teeth should be. I just pray he’s not losing them for any other reason than he should be.

“Snickers it is. And for you?”

The paler one scuffs his sneaker over the tar, gives a little shrug, too damn cute for his own good. In all the ways he doesn’t yet know. “I just wanted to get my-”

Yeah, yeah, I know, kid. Selfless, sacrificing. “I’m getting Snickers for you too, unless you come out with it.”

“That’s fine.”

I laugh, roll my eyes towards the picture perfect sky. Don’t placate me kid… just tell me what you want. Maybe in time it’ll come. But I’ve got a ten mile run to finish and it’s getting late and my husband’s counting on me to be in time for Lost. So I head inside, buy them six candy bars, drop the bag in the oldest one’s hands on my way out the door.

“Remember to brush your teeth,” I wink, situating my headphones.

I don’t stay around for thanks. Who the fuck wants it. I have the oldest ones attitude.

I can’t help but wonder how much he’ll grow up like me. I’m already halfway down the block, running past the belching smokestack of an ancient power plant, wondering if I’ll be able to sketch his growth with any certainty… the man he’ll become. The men they’ll both eventually be.

Something new comes on and there are miles ahead. The parking lot’s empty on my way home.