Subject: The Venturer Scout – 08 The Venturer Scout -08 by: James FitzHugh Many thanks to Len in South Africa for his editing; to Rob in Alberta, Canada for all his technical assistance; and, to those readers who very kindly dropped me a note. Here we go with all the legal stuff. If you are under the legal age; then you really ought to leave now. If, on the other hand, you find the story offensive or it is illegal according to the laws of your Country, State or Province for you to view this content, I suggest you tune out and go find a good Sherlock Holmes mystery or a good novel written about the days of wooden ships and iron men. If you need help to find authors, just drop me a note. If you enjoy this story – or any others on this great site – remember that you can only read them if Nifty remains online. For that they need our cash. If we all give just a wee little bit, the site won’t disappear and take our stories with them. No-one is asked to do any more than they can realistically afford but every ?, ? or $ helps? +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ We walked over to Aaron’s place. It was a beautiful evening and I saw no real reason to use my car. Aaron, being Aaron, was flapping his gums so fast I thought he was about to change our weather pattern. It’s amazing what tripe a young boy/man can come up with when nothing intelligent is roaming around his brain pan. Aaron wanted me to go round to their back door and since I consider myself no-one’s domestic nor a whatchamacallit salesman, I let him run round to the side of the house while I walked up to the front door. I was just about to put my finger to the bell when the door opened and Cathleen, Aaron’s mother, reached out and pulled me in by the shirt collar. But, when I was introduced to their lawyer, I understood why. Mr. Anthony Joshua Carruthers most certainly must have included Noah, of biblical fame, among his clients. Just watching him climb out of the chair, my eyes got tired. Lord, when he lifted his hand to shake mine I thought the poor bloke was going to suffer a stroke from just the very idea of exercise. And then, to my amazement, this limp fish was dropped into my hand. Bloody hell, I thought to myself, maybe I should just slip my hand up to his wrist and check for a pulse. Cathleen, returning the favour of my rescuing her from this dull and dreary man, quickly stepped up to my side with a lovely tumbler of Queen Ann? scotch with just a hint of ginger ale. I couldn’t help but take a healthy slurp of the delightful beverage, if for no other reason, but to put feeling back into my right hand. Now revived, I waved my hand in a broad sweeping motion to indicate that we should all sit. Cathleen, that sly fox, vacated the chair next to Mr. Carruthers while Aaron, being Aaron, just perched himself on the arm of his mother’s chair. As we all got settled, I looked over at Cathleen and raised my eyebrows as in asking her where her husband was. That woman’s no fool. She immediately leaped into the discussion as if anything she said might push the elderly gentleman along and out the door. “John sends his apologies.” She said matter-of-factly. “He was on his way out the door when his boss called him back and they’ve been in a hush-hush meeting ever since. He told me to tell you that all he wanted to talk to you about was holding off on making any commitments on Aaron’s behalf tomorrow.” “Well, I wouldn’t have done that actually.” I said taking another sip of my scotch. “I would have asked them if they could wait until one or both of Aaron’s parents were available.” “Which brings me to the subject of this meeting,” intoned Mr. Carruthers almost as an interruption. ‘Bloody hell!’ I thought as I listened to the elderly gentleman who reminded me so much of that late, great British character actor, Robert Morley, whom probably none of my readers would be likely old enough to remember. The film critic Leonard Maltin once described Morley as “recognisable by his ungainly bulk, bushy eyebrows, thick lips and double chin, […] particularly effective when cast as a pompous windbag.” I swear, this is the type of guy they would use in an interrogation room. Slow, ponderous, long spaces between words, a guy who gives you the impression he can’t think on his feet but has to lay out every sentence in his head before he makes the next announcement. But, I did get the impression that this old gentleman, much like the late Mr. Morley, was far more knowledgeable than anyone would give him credit for and had a mind like a steel trap. It was bloody annoying if you ask me. But, it was also very effective in keeping your attention riveted on him. Actually, some years later, after I had developed my International Law practice, I would think of Mr. Carruthers and often, Robert Morley, and remember their unusual speaking style. I deliberately practiced it for a while in front of a full length mirror until I got it just right and before adopting it for use during the many meetings I would have including those appearances before the International Court. Thankfully, I didn’t have the jowls yet but they would settle in over the coming years. It would drive my colleagues mad because they knew it was not my normal method of speech but more of a character I would adopt as if we were all part of a stage play which, of course, we always were. After all, wasn’t it William Shakespeare in his play, ‘As you like it’ who said that “All the world’s a stage.” Well, of course, any practicing lawyer would tell you that upon their appearance in Court, it is the equivalent of entering the stage because you are obligated to perform for the jury, for the honourable Lord Justice or in the case of the International Court, Justices, your client be that an individual, a corporation or a Country and, karşıyaka escort certainly, the spectators. One of the reasons I never took up Corporate Law was because it was paperwork, tons and tons of bloody paper being shuffled around until a bored decision maker put a halt to it and rendered a decision that was most likely to be appealed and then, true to form, the paper shuffle would begin all over again. And, while the International Court can also contribute to the world’s paper shortage, when it’s a criminal case, there can be lots and lots of drama. Even jurisdictional disputes can be dramatic as in the case of the settlement of the George’s Bank boundary lines between Canada and the United States. The United States went into the case wanting 100% of the George’s Bank fishing territory while Canada went into the case hoping to get 50% of the rights to the territory. In the end, the United States got about two-thirds while Canada got the remaining one-third. The Americans hated that decision because they considered the whole of the Banks were theirs and Canada received the rest, including the areas known as the Northeast Peak and the Northern Edge, which are rich in fish and scallops. But, I’ve gone off on another tangent, haven’t I? I had better get back to our story. For the next 40 minutes or so, Mr. Carruthers droned on. Then, assuming that I’d understood everything he’d said, which I hadn’t, he invited me to put my signature to the document he’d been reading from, which I promptly did. He also signed, Cathleen signed and then he took this portable seal out of his briefcase, sealed the document and handed it to me. We were done. Finally, bloody well done. He didn’t even have that seal back in his bag before I promptly stood up followed by Cathleen and Aaron who should have been in bed but, as usual, the inquisitive boy had hung around. Cathleen, swift as a frightened deer caught in the headlights of an onrushing car, was quick to lead poor Mr. Carruthers to the door where I shook hands with him; rather I took that limp fish in my hand again and thanked him for taking the trouble to come all this way for such a trivial matter. “Not in the least a trivial matter, my boy,” he said as he took Cathleen’s hand. Of course it wasn’t trivial. The bill he would later send for time and travel would be atrocious. In seconds not minutes, we had him out the door and on his way. Cathleen and I returned to the living room and collapsed in our chairs. Aaron, the little sod, thought the whole thing was so funny that he laughed his fool head off. He reminded me of the ‘elephant skit’ on the Carol Burnett Show when Tim Conway was doing his funny stuff and Dick Van Dyke was laughing so hard that he fell off the end of the couch. Well, Aaron was no better and was laughing so hard at our discomfort that he fell off his perch. We couldn’t help but laugh too but I really wanted to pick the little sod up and stuff him head first into the dust bin. He didn’t last too long though because his mother quickly sent him off to bed soon thereafter and we attempted recovery. Cathleen and I had another glass while she told me all about the job offer her husband, John, had received. We talked a little about what she and her husband thought about Aaron and his diving career and how the move out west might affect him. Again, I warned her that next year was to be Aaron’s final year in High School and that he would certainly be reluctant to leave his friends and go to a new school. Cathleen seemed to be very much aware of the problems the move would cause for Aaron. What she didn’t know is that the little sod was sitting at the stop of the stairs listening to our conversation. I’d seen his feet when I’d reached over to the coffee table to pick up the ‘Power of Attorney’ and place it in my shirt pocket. I left about 10:30p.m. As I was leaving Cathleen again thanked me for taking Aaron to the meeting tomorrow and gave me a nice, sisterly, little peck on the cheek. The next morning I was up fairly early, had my coffee, set the timer on my stove to remind me when I should get ready and leave to pick up Aaron from school and settled down to draft another paragraph or two or three on my paper. To tell the truth, I really don’t remember getting any work done when I suddenly heard the sound of the timer going off. Putting things away, I poured myself a cold glass of diet pop, took my shower, shaved and dressed in a blue short sleeve shirt, grey slacks and sandals. When I checked in the full length mirror, I did my habitual routine of making sure that I had my spectacles in my shirt pocket, my testicles were secure in their pouch, I had my wallet in my back right hand pocket and I was wearing my watch. Actually, although I would hear this little ditty years later as part of some movie scene where these two guys, one of whom could have been the legendary Mel Brooks, are on an airplane, etc., My brother-in-law always says the scene comes from the movie Nuns on the Run but I’ve never seen that movie, at least I don’t recall having done so, and I know I first saw it in a movie where these two guys were on an airplane and one of them is Jewish. So, we fight about it to this day. For me though, it was always something my granddad would say in a very soft voice, because he didn’t want grandma to hear him, as he was putting the finishing touches when he was dressing to go out. I remember distinctly hearing the words, spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch because he did wear glasses, I don’t know about checking the testicles part (maybe because he was older at the time, he felt it necessary to check if they were still there), he kept his wallet in his left side suit coat pocket, and, he wore a pocket watch in his right vest pocket. One day I asked kartal escort him about it and he merely said that he was blessing himself and asking the good Lord for a safe trip. I remember him smiling down at me and me, I just collapsed on the bed in gales of laughter. Well, I was ready now so I locked up and slowly climbed into my trusty beast of an old car. Every time I got into the car I had this rambling thought that perhaps my brother-in-law was right and it was really time to shoot the beast and consign it to the bone yard. But, every time I would have that thought, it would be pushed out of my mind by nostalgia. I loved this old thing even if it was getting up there in the dinosaur class and, what no-one knew was that it was in this very car, during my first year of college that I and the captain of the soccer team went for a drive up into the mountains. He was three years older than I was and entering his final year. I don’t even remember the exact cut off now but I was driving and he was the navigator. Somewhere out here in the great beyond, we took a cut off. At his direction we stopped, got out and walked out into the field to see the beautiful array of stars. After he had pointed out this, that and the other constellation and the history behind their names, we returned to the car and that’s when the fun began. Well, we don’t need to get into all the details but I can say that after he had pulled the lever on his seat and it had almost turned the passenger seat into a bed, he had pulled me over and started to make out. Almost two hours later I was manoeuvring the car back onto the highway on our way back to the city. During that two hours he’d got me into that passenger seat, had me on the bottom and slowly worked his way into the position where he fucked my throat, not just the once, but twice. We enjoyed several other bouts of animalistic coupling that year until his graduation after which he left for his new life in Australia. Gawd, I missed him for quite a while. But this is not my story, this is Aaron’s story. So! Let’s get back to it, shall we? As I was backing out of my driveway one of my neighbours waved and asked about my sister, the fire breathing dragon. I assured her that they were enjoying their trip to Ireland and suggested that when I got back I would gladly have her over to see the pictures she had sent me. I really didn’t give her time to get into a deep discussion. I simply waved and drove off. It didn’t take me all that long to get to the school. There was a procedure I had to follow which was to go inside, present identification, sign the register and claim the body ?. Oops, I mean Aaron. One could just tell the little sod was looking forward to getting out of the days schoolwork because he was sitting on the bench just outside Brother Michael’s office. I hadn’t expected Brother Michael to come out to speak with me but he did. We passed a few minutes on pleasantries and chatting about nothing and everything. As I shook his hand to leave with Aaron, he leaned in and said just slightly above a whisper, if you need him for tomorrow, I have already authorized it. Thanking the good Brother, I collected my charge and headed back to the beast. Surprisingly enough, the rugrat wasn’t all that talkative until that entrance door closed behind us and then he began flapping his gums about nothing in particular and certainly nothing I would be interested in. I asked him how much homework his teachers had given him and he replied that it was very light. “They were all pulling for me to make the National Team.” He said with his most favoured scheming smile creeping across his face. Like a typical carnivore, the first substantive question out of him was, “Where we gonna eat lunch, boss?” Well!” I replied. “Your appointment isn’t until 2:00 p.m. and you can have your choice of McDonalds on the Square or, maybe, Bens. But maybe I’ll just fill you up on burger and fries instead of real food.” “The hell with that, boss. If you’re paying, I’m going to Ben’s. They make the bestest smoke meat in the world.” He said turning to me and giving me his puppy dog eyes. Actually I really didn’t care where we ate because I wasn’t paying. Cathleen had slipped me $100 as I was leaving last night to pay any expenses. “Alright,” I said, “Ben’s it is.” During the drive along the access road to the Expressway leading into the City, Aaron seemed content to watch the farm tractors doing their thing in the fields on both sides of the road. I was enjoying the quiet because nothing was more annoying than Aaron getting his motor mouth in gear and rambling on about nothing. But, then again, I thought about the time that Aaron had gone into the city on the bus, turned Devon into a cocksucker and had planned a weekend of debauchery with his mate, Dicky. Since I was well aware that the peace and quiet would soon end and that Aaron would get on to spouting off about some nonsense, I thought it best to channel the air flow. “So, Aaron. You never finished telling me about that weekend you spent in the big city.” “And, you didn’t give me any details about your weekend with Gjert up in the mountains, so what’s the problem?” replied the cheeky little bugger. “I’m sure that what happened during my weekend with Gjert, although it was fun, was not nearly as exciting as yours with your mate Dicky.” I replied. “Really boss? All that shagging going on and not one little itsy bitsy juicy detail for me?” “I’m afraid not. It was just a weekend of fine food, excellent wine, even more awesome desserts. Did I tell you that Gjert was an excellent cook? And yes, as you call it, a whole lot of shagging was going on in the living room, the dining room, the bedroom and, while enjoying the beauty of the kastamonu escort sunset, on his lovely balcony overlooking the valley below. Short version is that we both had a much needed oil change.” “Right, boss. I can just see how boring that type of weekend could be. Remind me to get you to introduce me to Gjert one of these times.” “That’s not going to happen, Aaron.” I said looking into those twinkling eyes of his. “Why’s that, boss?” “Because I think you’d set about on a short term project of seducing my bud.” I said with a chuckle. “Ah, come on. Won’t you even share?” Absolutely, I’ll share. But only when you turn 18 and not a day sooner. I really don’t need a lifetime of grief nor do I want to meet a big man with the nick of ‘Bubba’ in the prison system.” “You don’t know what you’re missing boss”, the little scamming sod said reaching down and giving his ample crotch a squeeze. “I am very much aware, Aaron, but I can live with it.” I said not wanting this part of our conversation to get any randier than it was. “So tell me what happened after you seduced Devon during the bus trip and you went on to meet Dicky in the city.” “Well if you’re not going to give me any more details on your weekend with Gjert,” he said with a mock sigh, “I guess I’ll have to tell you my story about my big weekend in the city.” We had just gone through the turnstiles at the toll booth on the expressway and I tossed in my change. “So!” I said. “If I remember rightly, you were going to meet Dicky at the Churchill Station?” “Yup. Once the bus arrived at the underground station Devon’s mother, who must have lost her battle to convert the two blue haired ladies, called for her son. We got up and walked to the front of the bus where she was waiting for him. We said our goodbyes and I wished him a great weekend. He just looked at me as if I’d delivered a knockout punch to the jaw. I said my very polite farewells to his mother and they took off for the east bound train while I went towards the central line.” “One of these days I’ll have to take the underground trains just to have a look at these stations everyone raves about.” I said turning my head to smile at the boy. “Actually, boss, the ones along the central line are quite artistically done. The ones on the North, West and East lines are very colourful but not as much artistic work was put into them. Maybe they ran out of money?” “Like I said, I’ll have to take a trip sometime to see.” “Are you telling me boss that you have never gone on the underground?” ‘No! I didn’t say that. I said I’ll have to take a trip sometime to see. I have been on the line from the bus station to the interchange station and from there I have been on the central line going to the university. But, if the truth be known, I was always reading either the newspaper or one of my books and I’ve never taken the time to look up when we entered each station along the line. So, I was suggesting, it was something I should do.” “Well, if you are into the artsy, fartsy stuff, it’s something to see. Maybe later today we can go for a ride on the central line of the underground just so I can show you?” “If we have time.” I said trying not to give him too much hope that it was something that was going to be on my agenda. “So! About Dicky.” “Okay! Rob and I had agreed to meet at the Churchill Station around 6 or so. I must have made the mistake of telling this little titbit to Dicky, too, because when I got off the train, there he was? all 6 foot plus of him. And, just as he wrapped me in a welcoming bear hug, I glanced over to the escalators and there was Rod waiting for me.” “I’ll bet that put a damper on your plans?” “I really didn’t know at the time but, as it so happens, it worked out great for Dicky.” “How so?” I asked. “Wait, boss. Don’t rush me.” The little sod replied with his usual cheeky grin. “There is a sequence of events that took place after we met up and if I don’t get it right, I could drop a juicy, if you know what I mean, detail.” “Aaron, you never drop details. You always seem to enjoy making sure I know all the details.” “Ya wanna hear this story or not, boss?” he asked feigning annoyance at my interruptions. “Okay”, I sighed. “No more interruptions.” “Well, there we were. Me, all wrapped up in Dicky’s long, but strong, tentacle like arms. There was no way I was going to easily get rid of Dicky so Rod and I could, maybe, get down to some quick business so, looking over Dicky’s shoulder, I motioned him to come over to join us. I was getting the feeling that Rodney was a ‘go with the flow’ type of guy who was adaptable to evolving events because, once he understood my signal, he calmly walked over to us. Dicky and I separated and I introduced the two of them. I introduced Rod as a pre-law student who was a friend who was helping me to come to grips with what his courses consisted of, yada, yada. I certainly, not at that moment in time anyway, wasn’t going to introduce Rod as a cocksucker, now was I. And, I certainly didn’t want to deflate Dicky’s enthusiasm for his plan to take me to the Dragon Fly. It wouldn’t have been fair.” “And did it work out?” “Oh ya, boss. Dicky and Rod got on right from the start. Before we went to have something to eat, Dicky invited us to go over to his place so I could park my bag and get freshened up. He also indicated he wanted to take a shower and change.” “Rod was okay with the plan?” I asked. “Like I said, boss. Rod comes across as a guy who doesn’t get all bent out of shape when a plan changes. In fact, he reminds me somewhat of a cobra.” “How’s that?” “Well, he just goes with the flow until he sees and opening and then he makes his move.” Did such an opening occur?” “You’re getting ahead of me again, boss.” “Oops! Sorry,” I said in reply looking at him as I drew an impression of closing a zipper across my mouth. (To be continued) Note: If you liked this little story, want to give constructive criticism or just want to rant, feel free to drop me a note at ail If you would like to hear more of Aarons adventures, drop me a note and let me know.