Twisted Tales

by Richard Campbell

The Hoodlum

One day Red (named for his hair) met his match. In fact he had met him before, in Primary School to be precise, but their instant dislike, probably because each had a similar attitude to rules, regulations and—horror of horrors!—acceptable behaviour, had grown from that moment. If opposites are alleged to attract, perhaps the contrary, similarities simply hate each other, is equally true. The fact remains that their aversion had persisted into their early teens.

Red was a happy go lucky sort of lad, treating almost everything he was told as a joke and not worth any more attention than a resigned smile—while Raymond took whatever was said to him as a direct instruction to do the opposite.

Surprisingly, they had a mutual friend. Stu (short for Stuart) liked them both and would have been pleased if the two of them were friends, or at least able to remain in the same room without trying to annihilate each other verbally and, on frequent occasions, physically as well. He thought both boys were cute, which they were, and couldn't understand their antipathy. He had tried for as long as he'd known them to negotiate a lasting peace, with as little success as the United Nations in their endeavours on larger, and possibly more important, stages. He was determined, however, not to give up. Alhough both were small for their age—the word 'little' springs to mind—they were a feisty pair and together, he thought, would be unbeatable. The 'together' part was not too much of a problem to arrange. The 'unbeatable' a great deal more difficult as their sole object in life appeared to be to beat each other up at every opportunity.

After descending rather painfully, on the bonnet of an enormous antique American vehicle, Red had calmed down for all of a week before resuming his normal cyclistic behaviour, though careful now to remain at least two nose lengths behind whichever vehicle he happened to be tailgating.

Raymond, on the other hand, was the same Raymond, doing what he'd always done without much thought or care, obeying whatever impulse seized his brain and when admonished, continuing with what he was doing with even greater enthusiasm—or doing something worse! Adults (those banes of teen boy life!) suffering his depredations would voice their disapproval loudly and profanely, invariably ending their unflattering analysis of his person, character and actions with the words, "You're nothing but a little hoodlum!" Which is how he came to be called Little Hoodlum. In the course of time it was shortened to little Hood, by sundry infuriated adults who had come to the conclusion that even cutting a single syllable was going to save them huge amounts of time and effort, given the amount of invective they hurled at him. He was rather proud of the name and soon refused to answer to anything else when addressed by exasperated adults just prior to them tearing their hair out.

Stu, good friend that he was, decided one day that he'd had enough. Both boys had been sniping at each other with increasing frequency, sarcasm escalating to anger, then to rage until by the end of the school day, barely contained violence was simmering just below the surface.

"Right you two," he snarled, "We're going to settle this once and for all. I'm sick to death of the pair of you. You want to fight? Come on then, follow me. And may the worst man win!"

"That's me!" both shouted in unison, glaring at each other to such an extent that, as they were not looking where they were going, they stumbled and had to clutch each other to prevent themselves falling over.

"Get off me, you fag!" both yelled, after a surprisingly lengthy pause.

Stu smiled to himself and led them into a small clearing in the woods. "Take your shirts off," he commanded, waited until they had done so, then said, "No holds barred! Go!"

Immediately they were rolling on the ground, shouting, cursing and grabbing at anything to give themselves an advantage. Red's ancient and worn out gym shorts were the first to suffer when Hood accidentally grabbed them and they tore down the sides from top to bottom. Enraged, Red retaliated by ripping to bits not only Hood's equally flimsy shorts but his underwear as well. Not to be outdone, Hood rolled on top of Red and totally denuded him! Then, rage effervescing into something else, they stared at each other, gasping and panting, while a couple of things, previously concealed, began to take a definite and growing interest.

Both gulped, then Hood rose up a little and positioned Red carefully. Red gasped and pushed up involuntarily while Hood, with a virginal squeak, sank down. It didn't take long for them to fall into a satisfying and pleasurable rhythm.

Stu, who had suspected, but not really expected, that this might be the result, grinned and walked quietly away. He would have loved to watch until the inevitable conclusion, but he was a nice lad and wanted to spare them embarrassment. Though knowing those two…!

Still, what he had witnessed had been a sight to see—Little Hood riding Red.

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