By Joshua Ryan
Boss Web showed me to my new rack. This time it was a bottom, because Biff was gone. Biff was the one they sent up to the House to replace me. I don’t know how the boss chose him; probably because he was the faggiest and most worthless one he could think of.
Everybody seemed OK with having me back. I was another pair of legs on the coffle, and I wasn’t Biff. Their main idea was to make sure I was still just another workie like them. Of course the news had traveled about Mr. Hamilton’s “friend” being my “friend” before I put on the workie suit, and the decision that the kangaroo court had made, but I had to be stripped of any specialness that the story gave me, so everybody could see how I took it. It started right away. “Too bad brah! You’re back in the minor leagues.” “The problem with aging.” “Harem boys don’t last that long.” “Shouldn’t have changed your hairstyle.” “Another bad career move.” And a lot more.
