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Much to Jergen's protests, the old woman insisted that she be a hostess to him for the night. After washing the inch thick layers of filth off his body, the old woman had treated him to a lovely meal of rice pilaf and zucchini. During said meal, Jergens learned a bit more about the woman. Her name was Irene Whittington, and she was best known for her community service. “You ain’t the only down-and-out rascal livin’ round’ here boy. Nor are you the only who’ve I’ve invited for a night or three.” She had told him a bit more than once.
When the table had been cleared, Irene and Jergens slowly migrated over to the living room. “So…” Irene began as she plopped carelessly onto the couch. “I told ya what ya needed to know about me, now how about you?” Jergens put a hand to a forming beard on his chin, stroking it a little in thought. Could he really trust her? Hm, yes, he thought he might. He didn’t have much to lose anyway. “Where do I begin, lady?” he leaned forward a little on the couch, staring at the hardwood flooring. After a while, he began.
“Well… My parents kicked me out when I was twelve. Don’t bother asking me how old I am now. I can’t remember my birthday anymore, but by the year I can only tell that I’m either nineteen or twenty. Couldn’t tell ya which. Anyway, they kicked me out when they found that I’m a… um… well…” he faltered a bit, trying to find that right words. The old woman gave him a sharp, wise glance.
“Yer a queer, ain’t ya boy?”
Jergens was taken aback, “Well… yeah… Should I leave now?” he looked at her sadly. It had happened before; many nice families letting him stay, only to throw his ass right on out when they discovered that he was a homosexual.
The old woman crackled loudly at this, thinking of it as a great joke. “Leave?! Ho, boy, don’t you think yer special?
