"This is he."

"Yes, I am."

"Yes, he is."

"He went to school today.’

"He stayed home sick yesterday. Was sort of suspect but his attendance’s been good and he said he wouldn’t be missing any exams or anything, so I didn’t press the issue."

...

"Mmm hmmm."

...

"I’m not following you." 

"Okay—"

"Sorry...Pam. Sorry, Pam, but why is the Principal calling about attendance?"

"He’s okay, yes?"

...

"Okay. I’m sensing some discomfort. What’s the actual proble...what’s the ahhh, what’s the nature of the call?"

"Well, yes, I’m open to coming down, up actually, but I work from home so every hour I’m not working, I’m not billing. With all respect and everything, what’s the issue?"

"No, I never heard of him."

"I’ve never heard my wife mention him either. I’m pretty sure we’re not familiar with him. If he’s a friend of Tim’s, we’re not aware of it."

"Custodian. Like the janitor, or is that some title given to a child protective person or something?"

"Custodian." 

"Slow how? Retarded?"

"Mentally challenged."

"Aneurysm."

"Well, you know, kudos to you for your obvious commitment to diversity in your hiring practices, but I’ve got to tell you Pam, I’m getting really anxious about all this, can you sort of cut to the chase? What’s up?"

...

...

...

"What is felching?"

...

...

...
 

"What the hell is this? This isn’t the school!"

"Bullshit! Give me a break. No Principal would ever descri—."

"Okay. Look, I’ve got the number to the school here...on the wall—458-8957—I’m calling this number back and asking for you. If you’re the Principal of that school, you’ll take the call. If you don’t, I know you’re full of shit and don’t call back or I’ll have the call traced and you’ll be in deep shit. Good bye!"

"Unbelievable...957"

...

...

"Hell—."

"Hello. Is the Principal’s name Pam Stanz?"

"Stents. May I speak with her, please?" 

"Doug Tuttle. I was just speaking with her. I’m returning her call. She might be expecting me. To call."

"Thanks."

...

"Oh, my lord."

"I actually thought I might be able to write this off as a prank. Son of a bitch."

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Okay, uhm Pam. Can you sort of take it from the top? Jesus, I knew this day was too sunny. Too good to fucking last. Sorry for my language. God, it’s always something with that goddamn kid. Jesus." 

"Hold on a minute, I’ve got to switch to the phone in the living room. I’ve got to sit down."

...

...

"I’m here. Let’s have it."

...

...

...

...

...
 

"So where—?"

...

...

"Where—?"

...

...

"Sorry—where was this supposed to have happened, allegedly, and... and, as you might guess, my next question is: ‘How did the school let this happen? If it happened?"

...

...

...

...

"He turned himself in?"

...

"Then who—?"

...

"Who walked in on them?"

...
 

"I thought he was the janitor."

"Assistant Janitor. My son the underachiever. His tongue up the Assistant Custodian’s ass. The brain damaged Assistant Custodian. Nice goal-setting, Tim. Sorry, I don’t mean to—"

...

"I’m sorry, but I’m livid. I’m...I’m.... I can’t feel my legs, you know? I can’t see straight. I mean, Jesus."

...

"Why do you keep saying that like it’s a medical term?"

"I’ve never ever ever heard of felching!"

"Never. I mean, I partied my ass off when I was young—I was hell on wheels when I was a kid. I don’t know where you’re from, Pam, but if you’re within three or four years of my age, and you grew up in the Bay area? There’s a good chance we made out at one time or another. But I’ve never heard of Felching?"

"Would you be offended if I asked if you’re gay?"

"It’s none of my business but—"

"Well, given that insight, and I do appreciate your candor and your sexual situation is confidential with me and uh.., you know, but with all due respect, maybe it’s more common in your circles than the one’s I run in, but I...I mean shit...I never—. 

...
 

"So he’s gay? He’s gay? That’s the issue? My son was caught—by the real janitor no less—with his lips on some Jr. Special Ed. janitor’s ass? In the boiler room? Why are students allowed in the boiler room, Pam? 

Why are students allowed in there?"

...

"Why are students allowed in the boiler room?"
 

...

"Jesus, Mary and Joleen." 

"So, out of curiosity, being as he’ll never tell me anything—Jesus, I can’t even get him to tell me what movie he’s going to see—but how was it established that he was felching it with this person, as opposed to just kissing his butt cheeks or, I don’t know, checking him for ‘roids?" 

...

...

"Jesus Christ."

"Squatting over him?"

"Who was squatting over who?"

"Over Tim?"

"Heavenly father."

"Who’s semen was it? I guess that’s a stupid question. Unless there was a third person, it was Tim’s. God, so there was obviously no condom used. Is that right? I mean, based on what you know about this practice, is it safe to assume they didn’t masturbate into something else and then inject it or—."

"He said that?"

"To you?"

"May I ask what his exact words were?"

"I seduced him. I seduced him. That’s outstanding, Tim. And ‘Seduced!’ Always the infusion of drama. God, this kid. This fucking kid. Sorry."

"This is about revenge. This is about revenge, I swear to God. That kid will do anything. Goddamn. You try to set boundaries and be a good parent. Jesus. Did he seem at all concerned about his parent’s reaction to this?"

"And so he said what—‘I put my penis in his butt and then I put my semen in there and then he what? He squatted over me and I licked his butt?’"

...
 

"Jesus."

"So, this Rusty, the janitor, is he like Mexican...or white or..?"

"I have no idea why I asked that or why I care."

"He is white?"

"Have you ever heard of anything like this in your life?"

"No, actually I meant in your school, Pam. With a student." 

"Yah, experimental, I’ll say. Yes, he’s an incredibly creative individual. Gifted my kid."

"Well, Jesus, if you can give me about forty five minutes to collect myself, I need a stiff drink. Sounds like Tim did too, eh? God, I can’t even imagine. I can’t. I just. Jesus."

"My head is spinning. I’m just jelly. Just sadness...and uh...and rage. He was in Scouts up until a year ago. God, if I ever find out that’s where he learned this!"

"And I’ll need to call my wife, and our lawyer—I’m not trying to threaten you, but this guy’s an adult."

...

"Yah, he’s eighteen, but he’s still a student."

"Of course it’s illegal!"

"I beg to differ."

...

"I beg to differ."

...

"I’m not an attorney, but I’m sure it’s illegal for a member of a public school faculty to felch my son."

...
 

"Well, even if he’s not considered faculty—."

...

"I don’t see how it matters who was the recipient and who was the...the ah..ah... who the giver was."

"Well, let’s just let the legal...ah...professionals decide that."

"So is the act itself felching? Or was the guy felching him or..? 

"—Tim was felching! Of course, of course. So this guy...ahh...Rusty the gardener, he’s mister innocent in all this? He’s the victim?"

"Suspension with pay? That’s very appropriate. Yes, a complete investigation, of course. You could swab Tim’s tongue for DNA. Comb his goatee for pubes. Sorry. Sorry."

"Well, again, give me a few minutes to have a heart attack and get in touch with my wife. Hopefully she’s not in a meeting; I can’t handle this one on my own. I handled the bedwetting on my own. I handled Mariah Carey on my own. He emulated Mariah Carey for about a year; posters everywhere. Found a wig and a pair of shoes my wife thought the housekeeper swiped. He let the housekeeper take the rap for it. Nice, uh? That was three years ago but a difficult period to handle on my own nonetheless."

"Yes, I imagine having the counselor on hand will be a comfort."

"I appreciate your compassion, and of course your...your discretion."

...

"Alright."

"Okay."

"I’ll see you as soon as I can make it up there. Try not to let him felch anyone before I get there."

"Sorry."
 
 

(*