# Another One (Prologue)

Author: Der Doberman
Tags: College, Plot Development, Prologue

 

Prologue: The Sun Also Rises

 

They say that you can tell a college student by his walk. His gait carries an air 

of authority, a devil-may-care saunter, as if nothing in the world can touch him. And 

it should. In college, you're invincible. Where else do you get the chance to make all 

of life's mistakes and still have your parents show up to bail you out?

 

I never learned to saunter like that. Growing up, I had it hard. No, my mom 

wasn't a crack addict, and my dad wasn't a jobless loser drifting in and out of jail. We 

just didn't see eye-to-eye all the time, and money was always tight. My parents 

didn't know what to expect of me; a part of them must have known I was bound for 

something great, but then again, I think that's a part of all parents' thoughts. 

Secretly, I'm sure they thought I'd turn out to be a Joe-everybody, high-school 

dropout and mill worker like the other eighty-percent of my hometown population. 

Well, at least until I "outed" myself around my seventeenth birthday.

 

That's right. I, Thomas Delanor (don't ask) McDonald am a grade 'A', straight-

from-the-store homosexual. A faggot, nancy-boy, queermo, what-have-you. 

Whatever you call it, I can't help it; I feel it from the tip of my nose to the point of my 

fluffy tail. A fox has to do what a fox has to do, and I was certainly more inclined to 

take home-Ec my senior year than the alternative metal-shop. The conversation 

went something like this:

 

Dad: "Thomas, every man takes metal shop. Home-Ec is 

reserved for women, and men who want it in their 

ass every day from a dirty, sweaty Wolf."

Me: "I can't help what I want! You don't control me!"

 

I know, I know. Lame, right? Well, what's even worse is that somehow the 

information from this conversation (which I admit was more-or-less mistakenly 

volunteered) spread to my high school. And then around the school. I swear, by the 

end of the week I was the most well know gay guy in the whole county. Not that it 

matters.

 

Well, it does a little bit. Apparently, the faculty of my high school, along with 

the state university, get together each year to give out a scholarship to the student 

who has faced the most adversity and come out alive. Apparently, being the only gay 

student (yeah, right. Once you're out, you'll understand what I mean. Anyone who's 

ever had the slightest inkling of curiosity about it will come to you like you're a 

fucking expert) automatically earns you the prize. Such was the way that I came to 

attend Westshore University.

 

At Westshore, they stick the freshmen in one of two places: Riley Complex, 

aptly named after univerisity founder Melvin Riley who, at sixty-eight, went crazy 

and hung himself in his basement; and Point Royal, which is essentially a quad-

complex, complete with cracked swimming pool a crack-head manager. I was stuck 

in the latter, since the nature of my "merit scholarship" suggested that I might make 

a roommate uncomfortable. Ahh, good old-fashioned discrimination. But who was I 

to complain? 

 

However, this isn't about my freshman year at Westshore. No, fast-forward 

three terms to my second year. After I escaped the torment of over-sized portions 

saturated with salt. After I learned how to sleep during class without getting caught. 

And yes (this _is_ one of _those_ stories, after all), after I lost that jewel called 

my 'virginity' on a half-drunken dare to my now-(straight)-roommate, a coyote 

named Breckin. After I did all that, I finally got to experience a more real, although 

still safe, version of life. 

 

_This_ is that story:

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/B1QdM4on