He pushed up on the plunger a bit and watched
the testosterone cypionate jet into the air.
“You want to stick it in my ass?” he asked
the priest.
“Give me that.” Father Mark took the needle
from his friend. “You got a wipe or anything?”
Boone spit in his palm and rubbed his ass
cheek with his flannel.
“That’s sterile to you, huh?” Father Mark
shook his head.
“Skip the foreplay and just give it to me,
okay?”
“Fucker.” Mark plunged the syringe into his
friend’s buttock. “I hope this hurts.” He pulled back on the
plunger slightly. When the case didn’t fill with blood he knew he
hadn’t hit a vein so he slowly depressed the plunger, injecting the
testosterone into his friend’s body. Oil-based, it would sit in his
buttock and dissipate over the next couple of weeks.
“You were amped up today, B.”
“Work,” said Boone, his neck craned, watching
the liquid disappear in the meat of his ass cheek.
“Still having those dreams?” In college Mark
had majored in psychology. These days when he wasn’t serving mass
and pumping the iron he was finishing up his coursework in the City
University’s doctoral program in Psychology.
“Had one today,” admitted Boone. Mark had
been listening to Boone’s dreams ever since they’d roomed together
when they were both fifteen and Mark had had to wake a whimpering
Boone up from some night terror.
“How was that for you?” Boone asked as Mark
pulled the syringe free and handed it back.
“Your ass is too hairy, but that’s just a
personal preference on my part.”
“You ever get tired of the pedophile
jokes?”
“If I told you I did, would you stop?”
“No.”
“Your idea of cleanliness invites abscesses,”
the priest noted as Boone pulled up his pants.
“Next to godliness, right?” asked Boone. “And
you’d know, right?”
“Wait and see, B. Don’t come crying to me
when you get a big hole in the side of your ass. What’d you dream
about?”
Boone capped the syringe and walked over to
the garbage can under the paper towel dispenser, tossing the needle
away.
“Fuckin’ crazy shit. Bleak landscape, all
burnt and ash. Shit’s covered in bones. I mean, human bones, like
thigh deep. Corpses on top of the bones, all—how do you say it,
dried out and mummified and shit?”
“Desiccated.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Desiccated,” Boone popped
the top off a bottle he’d pulled out of his gym bag. He dumped a
handful of pink tablets into his palm. “Desiccated corpses all
dried up and shit. The sky’s all dark and cloudy except for the
sun. The sun burns red, Mark, red …and then this thing rears
up, spreads its wings, blocks out the sun—”
“You’s strong, dawg.” Two of the Italian kids
had come into the locker room and one of them was talking to
Boone.
Boone scoffed, not deigning to answer. He
popped the handful of pills into his mouth and dry swallowed.
“Breakfast of champions” he muttered more to himself than anyone
else.
Mark sighed. Orals had a way of wreaking
havoc on a man’s liver, having to pass through it twice. Better to
inject. And that Russian D-Bol Boone was gulping down…God only knew
the quality of it.
“Yo, where can we get some of that?” The
second kid nodded towards the bottle in Boone’s hand.
Mark saw the look crossing his friend’s face
so he spoke up before Boone could. “I’ll handle this one, B. Do me
a favor and go get yourself a protein shake at least.”
Boone grunted something, grabbed his gym bag
and walked out of the locker room.
“Yo, what’s up with your friend, bro? Roid
rage?” The kid was trying to joke around but Mark cut him off
short.
“Let him hear you say that, he’ll rip your
nuts off and use them as a hood ornament.”
“I was just kidding, yo.” The kid looked down
at his pecs, sufficiently cowed.
“Yo, that guy is strong yo.” The other kid
tried to take up the slack. “I mean, we got a friend out in Philly
who’s strong, but that
the testosterone cypionate jet into the air.
“You want to stick it in my ass?” he asked
the priest.
“Give me that.” Father Mark took the needle
from his friend. “You got a wipe or anything?”
Boone spit in his palm and rubbed his ass
cheek with his flannel.
“That’s sterile to you, huh?” Father Mark
shook his head.
“Skip the foreplay and just give it to me,
okay?”
“Fucker.” Mark plunged the syringe into his
friend’s buttock. “I hope this hurts.” He pulled back on the
plunger slightly. When the case didn’t fill with blood he knew he
hadn’t hit a vein so he slowly depressed the plunger, injecting the
testosterone into his friend’s body. Oil-based, it would sit in his
buttock and dissipate over the next couple of weeks.
“You were amped up today, B.”
“Work,” said Boone, his neck craned, watching
the liquid disappear in the meat of his ass cheek.
“Still having those dreams?” In college Mark
had majored in psychology. These days when he wasn’t serving mass
and pumping the iron he was finishing up his coursework in the City
University’s doctoral program in Psychology.
“Had one today,” admitted Boone. Mark had
been listening to Boone’s dreams ever since they’d roomed together
when they were both fifteen and Mark had had to wake a whimpering
Boone up from some night terror.
“How was that for you?” Boone asked as Mark
pulled the syringe free and handed it back.
“Your ass is too hairy, but that’s just a
personal preference on my part.”
“You ever get tired of the pedophile
jokes?”
“If I told you I did, would you stop?”
“No.”
“Your idea of cleanliness invites abscesses,”
the priest noted as Boone pulled up his pants.
“Next to godliness, right?” asked Boone. “And
you’d know, right?”
“Wait and see, B. Don’t come crying to me
when you get a big hole in the side of your ass. What’d you dream
about?”
Boone capped the syringe and walked over to
the garbage can under the paper towel dispenser, tossing the needle
away.
“Fuckin’ crazy shit. Bleak landscape, all
burnt and ash. Shit’s covered in bones. I mean, human bones, like
thigh deep. Corpses on top of the bones, all—how do you say it,
dried out and mummified and shit?”
“Desiccated.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Desiccated,” Boone popped
the top off a bottle he’d pulled out of his gym bag. He dumped a
handful of pink tablets into his palm. “Desiccated corpses all
dried up and shit. The sky’s all dark and cloudy except for the
sun. The sun burns red, Mark, red …and then this thing rears
up, spreads its wings, blocks out the sun—”
“You’s strong, dawg.” Two of the Italian kids
had come into the locker room and one of them was talking to
Boone.
Boone scoffed, not deigning to answer. He
popped the handful of pills into his mouth and dry swallowed.
“Breakfast of champions” he muttered more to himself than anyone
else.
Mark sighed. Orals had a way of wreaking
havoc on a man’s liver, having to pass through it twice. Better to
inject. And that Russian D-Bol Boone was gulping down…God only knew
the quality of it.
“Yo, where can we get some of that?” The
second kid nodded towards the bottle in Boone’s hand.
Mark saw the look crossing his friend’s face
so he spoke up before Boone could. “I’ll handle this one, B. Do me
a favor and go get yourself a protein shake at least.”
Boone grunted something, grabbed his gym bag
and walked out of the locker room.
“Yo, what’s up with your friend, bro? Roid
rage?” The kid was trying to joke around but Mark cut him off
short.
“Let him hear you say that, he’ll rip your
nuts off and use them as a hood ornament.”
“I was just kidding, yo.” The kid looked down
at his pecs, sufficiently cowed.
“Yo, that guy is strong yo.” The other kid
tried to take up the slack. “I mean, we got a friend out in Philly
who’s strong, but that
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