I thought Rodney was okay the first time I met him; he was friendly and outgoing, and although he was obviously popular he still made a nobody nerd like me feel welcome in the new school. It didn’t take long for me to change my mind, and to this day I have an inherent dislike for anyone named Rodney.

He was one of the first kids I met at Union High. I had just transferred in from a town several hundred miles away. I didn’t like transferring to a new school, particularly in the middle of the school year, but my dad had accepted a job there and I didn’t have much choice. Anyone who tells you that high school is the happiest time of a kid’s life is full of shit; in addition to worrying about my grades-I wasn’t that great of student-there was also the ever-present danger of pissing off one of the big burly Seniors. I didn’t know how it worked at this school, but at Mid Valley High School they simply got you off campus somewhere and worked you over. If you were lucky all you had to do was figure out how to get home while either naked or just wearing your skivvies. If you weren’t quite so lucky you also got your balls and the crack of your ass slathered with a stinging, greasy, mixture of antiseptic waterproof wound dressing, and if you were really unlucky you also got the crap beat out of you.

Rodney introduced himself right away. He was fifteen, same as me, but quite a bit more mature. He was about my height and weight, but while I was kind of flabby he was solid and muscular. He had dark hair and a somewhat dusky complexion and a discernable beard, something that I would lack all during high school. He was also naked. It had taken me an hour to get checked into the school and I had missed first period. Second period was PE and I had already gotten dressed down when he walked up to me. He had dark hair that covered his legs and was creeping towards his navel, and a set of tools that outclassed even most of the older guys’. He was far and away the best athlete in the class, which was a mix of mostly sophomores and juniors with a few seniors to help the teacher keep order. He was quick on his feet, agile, and seemed like an Olympian next to the rest of us.

I quickly learned that he was King Shit amongst the sophomores. He had a group of followers that would do anything he suggested and he had his pick of just about any girl he wanted. He was friendly towards me but there was also an unspoken understanding between us that he was more of a man than I was and that he could beat the shit out of me anytime he wanted. That was okay by me to start with, as all I wanted to do was stay out of trouble and get along.

My first run-in with Rodney occurred after I had been there about a month. By that time he pretty much ignored me, having quickly figured out that I was no threat to either his kingdom or his harem. We were taking a test in Biology and he was sitting right beside me. I was doing a lot better in school than I had at Mid Valley, as the expectations and standards were somewhat lower here. I had studied most of the same Biology material the last semester and consequently I was one of the better students in the class. I caught him looking over at my test paper. I saw the teacher glance our way so I shifted a little to make sure it didn’t look like we were passing answers. Rodney waited until we were in the shower after PE, then grabbed my arm in his vise-like grip and told me that he’d stomp my balls if I ever tried to cover up a test again. I was too chickenshit to do anything but nod in understanding. I eventually figured out that he usually waited until both he and his adversary were naked before he forced a confrontation. He was proud of his body, particularly the lower half, and he liked to use it to intimidate and humiliate his lesser endowed classmates.

He collared me again just before the end of school. He asked to see my English essay, the last one of the year. “Thanks,” he said, and handed the paper to one of his lackeys with the instructions to re-type the first page and change the name. I was pissed, but too chickenshit to do anything but run back home and call in sick. I threw together another essay that only got me a C, while ‘his’ was worth an A-. It brought my English grade for the semester down to a B and kept me off the honor roll.

I worked on my granddad’s farm that summer and didn’t see Rodney again until school started up again. I was actually looking forward to it this time. I was taller, leaner, more mature, and hardened by three months of hard work. I figured that I could take him now, and although I wasn’t actually spoiling for a fight I wasn’t planning on taking any of his shit either. Unfortunately I wasn’t the only one who had grown during the summer. I didn’t see Rodney until second period PE, and it was immediately clear that I was still outclassed. I had grown a couple of inches, but he was still taller than me and had also put on some weight, and he looked to be all muscle except for his cock and balls, which seemed even bigger than a few months ago.

PE was the only class I shared with him that year so things weren’t quite as bad as they had been, and we probably would have gotten along if I hadn’t went apeshit over a girl. I was sort of a late bloomer socially, and although I enjoyed being around girls I hadn’t found any that I liked enough to embarrass myself by asking out. I went to the school dances and hung around the Dairy Queen and shot the shit with them, but I never actually had been on a date. That changed when I met Sandra. She was not only genuinely fun to be around, but she also seemed to really like me.

The current must-see movie back then was Goldfinger, so we went to see it on our first date. I let her lead and the next I knew my hand was inside her blouse and she had unzipped my fly and was messing around with my cock. I was barely even aware of what was going on before it was too late, and I blew my wad about the same time that Odd Job’s hat took the head off of the statue at the country club.

I conned Dad out of the car the next Saturday night and took her to the drive-in theater and lost my cherry good and proper. Thank God the car didn’t have cloth seats!

Rodney approached me the next Thursday in the shower. “Don’t get too attached to Sandra, Dinky-Dick,” He warned, rinsing the soap from his hairy body. “I might want her back someday. She really can throw a good one, huh? Of course, you don’t have enough down there to really get her exited.” He said, motioning to my crotch.

I was pissed! I was mad enough to take him on right there, but instead just said, “The Field, after school!” There was a hard and fast rule about fighting on campus, and violators were immediately suspended or expelled, so differences were usually settled at a secluded field behind the Safeway store. I had been there and watched a few times as other kids went at it, but had never been in a fight myself. It had been drilled into my head from a very young age that fighting was not acceptable, and even if I won I would still get the shit beat out of me by my dad. All of that went out of my head though, and I was so pumped up by four-thirty that I was sure I could take him.

We squared off in front of a few spectators and I put up my fists in the classical position. He made a quick fake with a low swing towards my balls, and then gave me a quick one in my face when I dropped my hands to protect them. I hit the ground and the fight was over. My attempt at gallantry was rewarded with a black eye and a bloody nose and a month’s grounding from Dad. I skipped school the next day, which extended my grounding for another month, and brooded about it all weekend.

I knew that I’d face the ridicule from everyone in school, and going back Monday was the hardest thing that I’d ever done, but getting punched out by Rodney turned out to be no disgrace at all. He was the best fighter in the school and I hadn’t chickened out. He didn’t rub it in, but the message was still clear; there was more where that came from, come and get it.

Rodney continued his rather active social life and I broke up with, or more correctly, was dumped by Sandra. I survived being grounded and went back to dating, and trying to fuck, every girl I could and I stayed as far as possible away from Rodney.

I didn’t have any classes with him the next year, and although he didn’t seem to hold a grudge we still avoided each other. I joined the Army right after graduation and didn’t see him again until our class reunion five years later.

I had matured a lot during that interval. I was a Viet Nam vet, having spent almost two years in the Army, and had also made it through almost two full terms at college before flunking out. I had spent the last two years working for Dad building houses, and I had a lot of catching up to do with my old buddies. We were in the parking lot when Rodney showed up. He was driving a new Lincoln Mark V with dealer plates, had on a suit that probably cost more than my car, and was escorting a high maintenance blonde dressed in black velvet and wearing a diamond necklace that would have amounted to a year’s wages for a working guy.

“Jeff Miller!” He greeted me enthusiastically, as if we were old pals. “How are you doing, Gee, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He said, extending his hand. I didn’t give a shit about him and wasn’t really impressed with his car or his woman, but I did take the opportunity to shake his hand. He had reached his full growth in high school, but I was still growing even while I was in the Army and now had an inch of height on him and was several pounds heavier. He clamped down on my hand in some kind of childish show of force. He had picked the wrong guy. Back then carpenters drove every nail by hand with a hammer, and swinging one eight or ten hours a day gave a guy a hell of a grip. I waited until I saw pain cloud his face before releasing him. He stuck his hand behind his back, probably trying to make sure that his fingers still worked, and passed me his business card with his other hand. “Look me up if you ever need a car. I’ll make you a hell of a deal,” he said, wincing, before going off in search of another victim.

I didn’t see Rodney again for over ten years. A lot had changed during that time. Dad was slowing down and I was in charge of the building projects. I was in the process of getting divorced, and although it was amicable enough and wasn’t going to cost me an arm and a leg it was still stressful. I needed a new truck. I usually buy locally but the old one came unstuck while I was in Kennewick, so I went to the local dealer.

“Hey, Miller, long time!” Rodney said enthusiastically as I walked in the door. He extended his hand momentarily, and then started to withdraw it before I could lay another crusher on him, but I was over that childishness and we shook hands respectfully. He assured me that he would give me the best deal possible, which actually meant that he’d grease it up good before fucking me over, and proceeded to sell me a new truck.

I was back in Kennewick on business a month later, and being as how I was officially single again I went out to a bar to have a drink and maybe do a little trolling. Rodney came into the bar with another guy and recognized me and came over and laid the old good buddy line on me. I was pretty well oiled by then and just leaving but had one quick drink with them. I headed out but realized that I had forgot to leave a tip for the waitress and went back inside. I stopped short when I heard Rodney explaining to his companion that I was ‘just a pencil dicked hammer-swinger he had went to high school with in Spokane, and that the biggest joke was that he had been banging my ex-wife for over a year.’

I had a .38 in the glove box of the truck, and it took me a long time to talk myself out of going back in and either scaring the shit out of him or blowing his ass away. In the end I just drove off.

The next time I saw Rodney was twenty years later at our thirty-fifth class reunion. I wasn’t going to go. The last one I had attended was kind of a turn-off, with all of the strutting and posing and people trying to impress each other. I finally changed my mind and sent in my money and went anyway. I’m glad I did. There were people there that I hadn’t seen in a long time and it was kind of nice catching up. Sandra, my first ‘true love’ was there and she looked good. She had been married three times and was single again and was letting everyone know it. She was the same age as the rest of us, that is early fifties, but she had the figure of someone half her age. I don’t know if there was any guy in the class that hadn’t screwed her by then but she seemed to be hitting on just about everyone.

Rodney came in late, sporting another trophy blonde, and once more laid his business card on everyone he talked to. He still acted like he was King Shit and I avoided him like the plague. I had gotten over the fact that he had in all likelihood broken up my marriage, after all, it was that shaky to start with and hadn’t been all his fault. I just didn’t feel like listening to his shuck and jive bullshit. He was ignoring his date and hitting on just about every other woman there instead, so I sidled up to her and introduced myself as being one of his old buddies. She was a total, absolute, airhead, but I had no doubt that she could still throw a first class, number one fuck. I kept talking, and kept drinking, until pretty soon I was plowed and had to go to the toilet. I went into a stall and sat down for a minute, then heard the door opened again as two men entered the rest room.

“Hey, remember the time you and Miller went at it?” One of Rodney’s old cronies asked.

“Yeah,” Rodney’s drunken voice answered, “He’s still a chickenshit wimp. If he had any balls he’d try and kick my ass, not that he could.”

I sat there for a long time after that, not sure of what would happen if I ran into him again. I finally took out the note pad I carry and jotted off a quick note and signed it with Sandra’s name. Rodney was talking to another woman and didn’t even feel it as I slipped the note into the pocket of his thousand-dollar suit.

Sandra had been a powerful magnet thirty-five years ago, and some guys would still follow her attraction anywhere, and I was betting that Rodney would put his airhead blonde to bed in the motel room and then answer the summons to meet her at The Field at midnight for a very special reunion.

The Field was still undeveloped and now part of the greenway. It was still secluded and had trees all around the edge that provided perfect concealment. Rodney strode into the field right at midnight, now dressed in slacks and tennis shoes, and confidently called out Sandra’s name. “Over here, asshole,” I said softly, then swung the four foot long piece of two by four into the side of his head before he could see who it was. I was still drunk, and pissed off, and still chickenshit. He was out cold, so I calmly took out the same pocketknife that I’ve carried for thirty years and opened the blade. His pants were down in a few seconds, and for the first time in my life I grabbed another guy by his balls. He was still unconscious as I lifted him up by his pride and cut them from his body. I was too chickenshit to let him wake up and see who it was that nutted him.

I woke up the next morning with a monster hangover and it took me a few minutes to put it all together. I still wasn’t sure that it hadn’t just been a dream until I opened the refrigerator to find the evidence staring me in the face. I should have buried his balls in the yard but instead I hid them, scrotum and all, in my freezer.

I got cleaned up and went down to the coffee shop for breakfast, taking my usual seat in the booth with two old retired guys, Sam and George. Like most every other morning we were quickly joined by Mel, a Spokane city cop just coming off duty.

“Heard the radio yet?” Mel asked, surveying the menu. He had been eating there every morning for at least ten years but he still had to read the menu.

“No,” I answered, “What happened?”

“Some car dealer from Kennewick got assaulted behind the Safeway store last night.”

“Robbery?” I asked, nonchalantly as possible.

“More of a jewel theft, so as to speak.” Mel answered, refusing to elaborate on the grounds that it was still confidential.

I sweated it out all of that day, certain that I had been seen and that the cops would be coming for me any minute. I didn’t sleep well that night, and went down to the café early the next morning. Mel came in again and gave me all the gory details.

“Any suspects?” I asked, innocently.

“The guy had quite a reputation as a cunthound,” Mel answered, “I get the idea that there could be a couple hundred guys running around out there who’d jump at the chance to nut him. Between pissed off car buyers, husbands, and boyfriends, not to mention ex-lovers, a guy like that would rack up a pretty good list of enemies. The Lieutenant says that we’ll go through the motions, but this case will just kind of go away.”

I retired right after that. All of the duplexes and fourplexes that Dad and I built for ourselves were paid for by that time, and when Dad died a year ago I ended up with all of them. I put them all in the care of a property management firm and now I just sit back and collect a check every month. I still piddle around and do a little bit of woodwork though, and I just finished making a square plaque out of Circassian walnut. It has intricately filigreed edges and a finish as bright as a mirror. Rodney’s balls are still in my freezer, vacuum packed so they won’t spoil, and as soon as I find a taxidermist that I can trust I’m going to have his entire scrotum mounted on the plaque. I have a little paper tag already printed that will go above his balls that says ‘This space reserved for cock’. I want to hand deliver it to him, but I’ll probably get chickenshit and just leave it on his doorstep in the middle of the night.