I wrote it right around the time I got married, and I wrote it with the idea that it would be the most un-PC story I could ever think to put on paper, so un-PC that it would never occur to me to even think about wanting to get it published.​ I typed it up with the idea of just having a copy for myself. Then, as the Dark Ironies would have it, that same month I saw a listing in one of my writer publications requesting submissions for the exact same kind of piece I just wrote. I submitted that one typed copy I had, any mistakes I'd made I corrected with a ball point pen on the "manuscript", and damned if they didn't publish it, and I mean they published a copy of exactly what I sent them, pen corrections and all. Extremely small publication. If the circulation ran more than fifty, I'd be surprised. Thirty years ago. No reason I should ever see that story again. I don't even want to talk about what the story was about, but I tell you. You know how far out there I can get sometimes. This story goes way beyond that, way beyond any story I've ever read anywhere. If I never hear another word about that story ever again, hey, that would be the best, but I still am paranoid that someone, someday...

CONTINUE