Noun: the accidental squirting of the inner content from fruits, vegetables and other foods onto one's face, body, or clothing, or onto that of a person nearby.

As I cycled onto our street I saw the Mason Tesla pull away from the curb in front of our house.

"Hi you guys," I said. They returned my greeting and then there was a silence. They were sitting there like they had been talking together about something serious.

"Yes," said my father. "He came by to introduce himself to us and to talk to us about how he and Anna work together to take care of Marcus, and protect him, and now, you."

My father looked off into the distance for a moment then said, "A great American writer once said about the rich, that they are very different from you and me. And it's true, not just because they have more money, as the wiseacres say, though that's the basis of it. It's also because they grow up and to some extent, live, in another world, with different rules."

"And?" I said. At the same time, I remembered the previous day, when Marcus said he had asked for a car . That was a phrase I had never heard anyone else ever use. I mean, we had a car, a pretty nice car though it was not electric, but I couldn't imagine under what circumstances I would ever ask for a car .

My father laughed and smiled at me. "I was happy to assure Jason that you were a good boy and a good son and, aside from a few harebrained ideas from time to time, that you were mostly pretty sensible."

My mother chimed in here, "But Bumper, we want you to be careful too. Sometimes when you make a friend you can be hurt and when feelings are involved, you can hurt other people too, even if you don't mean to."

"Marcus is the best friend I ever had. I'd never hurt him and I know he'd never hurt me. You guys have nothing to worry about."

I looked at my father and said, "What did you mean about another world and different rules?"

"Oh, a lot of things, but one example might be the threat of kidnapping. We've never worried about you getting kidnapped…."

"Yes, normal motherly worries, but when a boy is worth billions of dollars it becomes a much more realistic threat. And you being close to such a boy means it becomes a real threat for you, too. So, one of the things that Jason talked about was the security on the Mason estate and in general surrounding Marcus. Though you boys are probably not aware of it, you are very well guarded at all times. The entire focus of that estate and all the staff there is Marcus, his health and safety and happiness. And because you are close to him, they watch over you as well."

"It was good of Jason to come and talk to us about all that," said my mother. "Have you been in the house?"

"Yeah, it's a nice house, really big rooms and a great view," I said. "It's funny, even though it's a big house you don't see it until you get close. It's like it's part of the hill and the woods and the rocks."

"An American classic," said my father. "Frank Lloyd Wright designed it. Marcus is living in a work of art."

I suddenly flashed an image of Marcus with his koteka and head-dress on and painted with yellow stripes and purple dots, and I laughed. "Marcus is sometimes a work of art himself," I said.

"Well," said my mother, "you boys be careful what you do out there. I've heard they even have a herd of buffalo, real buffalo, somewhere out there. Buffalo can be very dangerous. So make sure you listen to Jason and Anna if they tell you anything. Where did you get those clothes?"

"They're Marcus' clothes. Mine got dirty and so he loaned these to me," I said, sparing them the details.

She fingered the sleeve of Marcus' T-shirt. "Hmm. They just look like normal boys' clothes," she said.

"They are," I said. "Marcus is a normal boy. And so am I. When's supper? I'm starving."

My mother went into the kitchen, my father shook out his newspaper again and I went upstairs to my bathroom to wash my hands, still thinking about Marcus and the kotekas , then buffalo. A herd of buffalo? I'd have to ask Marcus about that.

My phone woke me in the morning. At first, I was a little confused because my head was still covered with Marcus' underpants. I had pulled them over my face when I went to bed, to enjoy his smell while I had some fun. I managed to answer the phone before it went to voicemail. It was Marcus.

"I know, and it's early," he said, and then his voice softened. "But Bumper, I woke up this morning and when I saw it was raining, I thought you might not come. I just ache to see you. Please come as soon as you can."

"No, Jason will bring you to the house. If you look outside you'll see he's waiting for you in front of your house."

I dressed and splashed some water on my face. It was barely eight-thirty, long before my usual hour of rising in the summer. I tried to wake up a little as the Tesla whispered through the summer downpour.

I scurried from the car through the front door. Marcus was sitting on a bench near the entrance. He jumped up and ran over when I burst through the door.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said as he hugged me. "C'mon, let's go have breakfast."

"No, no," he said while pulling me along beside him. "It's just…" He looked embarrassed. "Well, I woke up this morning and I felt so lonely. It seemed like years since I'd seen you. I know it's stupid, but I missed you so much I just had to see you right away."

I was prepared to give him a hard time for getting me up so early, but he looked so vulnerable and so completely like the perfect boy I had always dreamed of, I found it difficult even to pretend I was angry with him.

"My mother says you have buffalo," I said in the most severe tones I could muster.

"Don't equivocate! Why didn't you tell me you have buffalo? How could you have buffalo and not tell me?"

"I don't know. Fifty? A hundred? Something like that. I've never counted them. I mean, it's not like they all stand together in lines like soldiers."

"Not exactly. But you know, they're not my buffalo. They're just on the property. Some big preserve was going to cull them and granddad said, 'Don't shoot them. We've got a big place they can stay.' So they gave him a bunch of buffalo and he let them run around freely and do their thing." Marcus pushed me down into a chair at the kitchen table and Anna appeared with two steaming plates shortly afterward. Marcus brought two glasses of orange juice from the fridge and continued, "Just like the antelope."

"Yeah, pronghorns, about to be culled from another preserve. And I don't know how many of them there are either. You can count them if it's important to you. But good luck getting close to them. They're pretty spooky. Anna, thank you for this, it's delicious."

It was delicious. We ate in silence. Marcus kept glancing up at me and when we were a little full of Anna's great tofu scramble we started to laugh, about nothing, just because we both felt so good to be sitting across a table from each other.

"Next you'll be wanting to know how many deer there are, and raccoons and squirrels and grasshoppers," he said. "There's fish in the river too you know, and frogs and turtles."

We sat and looked at each other for a minute. Then he jumped up and came back to the table with a piece of paper and a pencil. He wrote on the paper and handed it to me.

"Well, sure, I mean I thought one buffalo would be kinda miserly. You can have ten if you want. Or forty-two."

"Do you think they'll fit in our garage? I could always keep one in my room I guess. Oh, I forgot to ask, are they house-trained?"

"Oh," I said. "In that case, I'm sorry I can't accept them." I tore up the piece of paper.

"Perhaps an antelope, an all-American Pronghorn Antelope?" Marcus offered. "Much more compact than a buffalo. And nice clean little droppings, like marbles, ready for composting."

We strolled into the vast living area centered around a stone fireplace, and wandered to floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto the terrace. The rain was still pouring down from the glowering sky but the wind had died.

"Yeah, that's okay," said Marcus. "We've got everything we need to get dry at the workshop. We'll leave our duds here and run to the workshop naked. It's a good run." We went to his bedroom and stripped. Then we stood nude in front of the glass doors facing out over the terrace, opened them and ran out into the rain.

Marcus started shrieking and I wailed and shouted too while we flew across the grass with the warm rain pelting down. Once we were under the trees the rain changed. No longer a multitude of small drops, it became less frequent but bigger bombs, as accumulated water was tipped from overloaded leaves and branches. The mud squished up between our toes at every step and rain-bent branches and ferns stung as they lashed against us.

Ten minutes into the run we were puffing and panting, and stopped in a forest glade for a stretch break. We came together for a hug and then a kiss. Our rain-slicked bodies slid together as we wrapped our arms around each other. We kissed and held each other for an endless moment. Our heated bodies seemed to melt into one warm, wet being. And then suddenly I ejaculated between our tightly clasped bodies. And so did Marcus. We weren't wiggling or even moving, just standing quietly pressed against each other and our penises jerked and spurted all by themselves. I don't know how long we trembled and squirted, but when the tremors quieted, I looked at Marcus and said, "Wow! I hope you don't mind. I didn't mean to do that. It just happened."

"Yeah," he said. "It was fantastic. It was beautiful. You're beautiful, Bumper. I love you."

Marcus kissed the end of my nose, then raced away into the forest. I followed close behind. Fifteen minutes later we flung ourselves off the riverbank into the swimmin' hole.

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Prairie Dogs, Pronghorns & Penis Sheaths

by Biff Spork

Chapter 7

"What a Glorious Feeling, I'm Happy Again"