BB FUN

When I was a sophomore, I went to high school in Houston during one of my “go live with your father, you’re too much to handle” phases. These punitive stints at pop’s were always a mixed bag, mostly because he was much harder to handle than I was, but I do have a few vivid memories that aren’t related to a near death experience in his bass boat.

I was in class one day and heard this group of itchy jock straps talking about their plans to go down to Montrose, the gay section of Houston, with bb guns and “shoot at queers”. I was struck by how excited they were. They were downright giddy, their voices humming with a dizzy freedom!

So off they went, a pickup truck full of straight dudes on a Friday night going out of their way to hang out in the gay section of town and fire the wimpiest bullet in existence at strange men’s asses. Where were the girls in this scenario? They were with me, abandoned by their secretly gay boyfriends and needing a shoulder to cry on.

At the time, this bb fun was the “gayest” thing I’d ever heard in my life and until last week it remained in the top five, when these sexually confused barbarians were finally bumped to six by the resurgent Hall and Oates.

Go to any extreme you meet the opposite.