I met P.J. at the Stop 'N' Go near the highway

It was hot and dusty. I leaned my bike against the wall and went inside. P.J. was watching an older kid light up a pinball machine with KISS all over it. He shook it and banged it with his hip and it rattled and clanged and flashed. We were mesmerized. Gene Simmons' tongue lit up.

"Hey! Take it easy on that machine!" the man behind the counter yelled. The kid didn't acknowledge the man. The wheels that kept score kept spinning.

I walked over to the newspaper rack and looked at the front page: ELVIS DEAD.

"P.J.!"

He came over and his mouth dropped open.

We rode our bikes as fast as we could back to my house. P.J. spent more time at my house than at his. When we got within range of the my driveway, I slid a leg over and rode it side-saddle then jumped off and let it roll on its own into the driveway. The pedals turned like it was being ridden by a ghost. It hit the lip of the driveway and bounced crooked into the lawn and into my mom's tall flowers by the fence. They were long-stemmed white flowers with things sticking out of the middle like yellow lizard tongues.

"Mom!" I yelled. "Mom! Elvis is dead!"

P.J. dropped his bike in the middle of the lawn and we ran up the steps into the house, slamming the door behind us. My mom rented a room to a guy with a thick black mustache and a gold chain with a pendant that hung in his bushy chest hair. His room was across from mine. His door was open and he was packing things into boxes.

"Mom! Elvis is dead!"

Jack stuck his head out of his door.

"Your mom's not here, kid. She got some overtime at the oyster hatchery."

"Hi, Jack," I said. "What're you doing?"

"You're mom told me last night that it was time to go, so I'm going."

I liked Jack. This was worse news than Elvis. He always told me jokes that made my mom mad. I'd tell them to my friends the next day at school and even if we didn't understand them we knew we weren't supposed to know them and we'd laugh anyway.

I wasn't allowed to go into his room, and I'd only caught a few glimpses inside when he'd come in and out. His door was wide open. I looked inside. He had photos from magazines all over the walls. Naked ladies with lots of hair between their legs. And lots of pictures of hairy men peeing into women's mouths. He had plastic red milk crates full of magazines.

P.J.'s mouth hung open again. Jack caught us staring at the photos on the wall.

"You boys like that?"

We kept staring.

"Well, I was just going to throw these magazines out, but if you want them I don't think your mom would mind if I gave them to you."

"Really?" I said. It was like Christmas morning.

I'd seen a naked lady once in real life. My mom had a party and I walked into her room when one of her friends was changing her shirt. She smiled when I walked in but didn't try to cover herself. I stared at her breasts, which were much bigger than my mom's.

"Sure," Jack said. "Why don't you boys just put 'em in the closet in your room. Maybe don't tell your mom about it right away. You want any of the stuff on these walls?"

P.J. started pulling down pictures of women being peed on.

I dragged a milk crate into my bedroom, then another. Jack rolled up the pad on the floor that he used as a bed, and set it on top of his last box. P.J. took down every picture and stuck them on the walls in my bedroom with tape while I flipped through the magazines and unfolded everyVaseline-lensed hairy-pubed centerfold.

After Jack loaded his car he came back to my room.

"I like what you're doing with the place," he said, scanning all the cocks and pussies on the walls. He rubbed us on the head like we were his obedient puppies and he was proud. "You boys behave yourself now. I'll be catching you 'round."

We hugged his waist and went back to the magazines as his boots echoed in the halls. I heard his little sports car peel out of the driveway.

"He's so cool!" P.J. said.

"Hey, let's hang these up in the living room," I said.

"Yeah!"

We tore a bunch of centerfolds out of the magazines and grabbed the tape. One over the TV, three over the sofa.

"Let's tape them in the window so the neighbors can see," P.J. said.

"Great idea!"

He held them as I taped them. We hung four in the window then went outside to the street to see what it looked like.

"Looks great," I said. "They are so beautiful."

P.J. nodded and admired our work as my grandparents pulled into the driveway. My grandmother had polio. The door of the Cadillac opened and she got herself up on her crutches. She walked to the front of the house and just stood there.