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Show Page 167 up sharing the same two-man raft with leeches and each other. They helped build jackfences together up the sides of mountains through the customary cathedrals of pines. Always, after working or playing too hard, Sam would get overexcited, cut himself a willow switch, and chase his little whipping boy around camp, trying to whip up the Look in his beautiful little face once again. And, as the summers drew to a close and the inevitable, miserable, humiliating, tortured prepschooldays beckoned, Axelrad would let himself and his fleet little buttocks be caught and whipped more frequently. The summer they grew out of boys' camps one or the other of their fathers got himself a temporary something-or-other in Hawaii or Florida or someplace with an ocean. And, of course, the boy whose dad it was invited' the other boy and, obviously, the other boy threw tantrums and feigned apoplexy until his parents allowed him to accept the invitation. As much as they hated each other, the youngsters had become inseparable. They spent the summer hanging around this awful older person who, ten years earlier in American history, would've given them sordid candies but now gave them stacks of late-sixties/early seventies-type pamphlets whose vague politics Axelrad ignored and Sam misunderstood. The boys spent their mornings pamphleteering the fat flowered tourists on the sunny back patios of Hawaiian (or Floridian) beachfront hotels, and when Hotel Security came, Sam and Axelrad threw their pamphlets high up in the sea breeze, to scatter everywhere for all to read, and they ran. They had their first dope-ocean-sex experience together, snorkeling naked on acid in a lagoon somewhere with or without girls in knit bikinis, |
