

Once there was a boy named McKim. He was 9 years old. McKim had a dog named Patches. Patches slept in a doghouse beneath Rusty's bedroom window.





One night, Patches couldn't sleep. He smelled a scary smell. "Bow-wow-wow!" barked Patches. "Bow-wow-wow! Bow-wow-wow! Bow-wow-wow! Bow-wow-wow!"





McKim threw open the window. "Oh, no!" he cried. "The house is on fire! Mother! Father!" McKim felt the door as he learned at school. The door was hot, so McKim stayed in his room and yelled for help from his window.





A big strong fireman came up on a ladder and carried McKim to safety. McKim hid his face against the fireman's uniform until they were safe on the ground. McKim was very glad to see that his whole family was safe. "That's a good dog you have," said the fireman. "He saved your family! And we got here in time, so your house is barely damaged."





The next night, McKim couldn't sleep. He thought about the fireman. He thought about how warm and muscular the fireman had felt through his uniform. He remembered the smell of smoke mixed with the fireman's sweat. Remembering the fireman gave McKim a funny feeling. He wished he could be together with the fireman again.





The next day, McKim talked to his sister Sue. "I think I want to marry a fireman when I grow up," said McKim. Sue gave McKim a strange look. "Boys don't marry boys!" she exclaimed. Then she ran off and told all the other children that her brother wanted to marry a fireman.





McKim went and talked to his mother. "I think I want to marry a fireman when I grow up," he said. Mother laughed uncomfortably. "What a funny idea, McKim!" she said. "What will the neighbors think if they hear about this?"





McKim decided that maybe his father would understand how he felt. "Father," said McKim. "Did you ever wish that the house would catch on fire again so that a fireman can rescue you? And did you ever wish he'd take off all your clothes?" Father gave McKim a strange look. "No, I can't say that I did," said Father.





The real shocker came at dinner that night. "I wish a fireman would take off all his clothes and sleep with me in my bed," said McKim. "And I wish he would put a dog leash on me." Mother nearly choked on her tomato aspic. "Eat your dinner, McKim," said Mother. "And be quiet."





When McKim went to bed, his mother came to tuck him in. "Now, McKim, there's something I want you to remember," she said. "Don't play with yourself, or you'll go blind." "Okay, mom," said McKim. He wondered if he could just do it until he needed glasses.





After McKim was in bed, Mother and Father talked things over. "I think McKim may be a homosexual," said Father. "It certainly seems that way," said Mother. "What ever can we do about it?" "I think we should have a talk with him and put the fear of God in him," said Father.





The next morning, Mother and Father had a talk with McKim. "No son of mine is going to be a homosexual!" said Father. "God says it's bad. If you don't give up this fireman business, we'll kick you out of the house!" McKim burst into tears.





Mother talked to Mrs. Brown to see if she had any advice. "I think my little McKim may be a homosexual," said Mother. "I just don't know what to do." Mrs. Brown's eyes grew wide. A homosexual! Mrs. Brown ran away shrieking. Soon, Mother learned that she had been un-invited from Mrs. Brown's Tupperware party.





When McKim went to school that day, all the other children ran away from him. "Ewww!" they said. "We don't want to play with a homosexual! We'll get gay germs!" McKim stood behind and tried not to cry.





McKim was so confused that he decided to call the police to ask for help. "Officer Plotchnik speaking," said the policeman. "Hello, my name is Brooke McKim," said McKim. "I'm 9 years old. Everybody hates me because I want to marry a fireman, and they say I'm a homosexual. What should I do?"





"Well, McKim," said Officer Plotchnik. "You'd better not put your wee-wee in any other boys mouths or bottoms, or you'll go to jail. Sodomy is a crime in this state, you know." McKim hung up the phone, more confused and depressed than ever. "What am I to do?" he asked himself.





After thinking it over, McKim decided to run away to find a place where people would understand him. "Come on, Patches," he said to his dog. "We're running away!" He packed some peanut butter sandwiches for himself and some dog food for Patches. Then he took Patches with him and ran away to a park.





In the park, McKim met a man. "Hello, little boy," said the man. "How would you like some ice cream?" McKim knew exactly what the man was after. Maybe this was his big chance! "Have you a fireman uniform?" asked McKim. "No, I'm afraid I haven't," said the man. "Oh," said McKim, disappointed. Then he kicked the man in the balls to show him what he thought of child molesters.





McKim ran all the way home with Patches. Then he cried and cried. "Oh, Patches," he said. "There seems to be nowhere to turn. I think I should end it all and kill myself." He looked sadly at Patches. "But I'm too scared to die alone. Let's make a suicide pact, Patches! How does that sound?" Patches licked McKim on the nose. McKim took that to mean yes, so he carried Patches outside.





McKim sadly carried Patches to the sidewalk. They waited for a car to come by. Soon, a driver came speeding around the bend.





With Patches in his arms, McKim jumped in front of an approaching car. The car screeched to a stop just in time. The driver jumped out of the car. "Goodness gracious, young man!" said the driver. "Why did you jump in front of my car?" "I was trying to kill myself because I'm a homosexual, and all my family and the other kids and the police and everyone hate me," said McKim. "Don't kill yourself!" said the driver. "Call the Gay Hotline! They can help you!" He gave McKim a card with a phone number, and then got in his car and drove away.





McKim nervously dialed the number. "Hello, Gay Hotline?" he said. "My name is Brooke McKim. I'm 9 years old. I'm a homosexual, and I want to marry a fireman. Everybody hates me because I'm a homosexual: Mother, Father, sister Sue, Officer Plotchnik, and all the kids at school. I tried to run away but a man tried to buy me ice cream, and I kicked him in the balls. I tried to kill myself but the driver stopped and gave me your number. What should I do?"





"What you need is a good family psychiatrist!" said the man on the Gay Hotline. "Here's a number for you." He gave McKim the number.





"Can we go to a family psych--- psych--- head shrinker, Mother?" asked McKim. "I have the number for a good one." Mother thought, "Maybe this will get those perverted homosexual thoughts out of little McKim's head." She said, "All right, McKim."





"Hello, folks, I'm Dr. Goldenberg," said the psychiatrist. "What seems to be the problem?" "We're here because our little son McKim seems to be a-- homosexual!" said Mother.





"Not to worry, folks. Being gay is a perfectly normal variation of human sexuality," said Dr. Goldenberg. "The best thing you can do is to accept Rusty for who he is."





At home, Mother and Father talked it over. "Maybe we were too hasty to judge the boy," said Father. "Maybe so," said Mother. "All right, let's talk to him."





Father told McKim, "McKim, your mother and I have decided to accept you just as you are. We're proud of our gay son." McKim's face lit up. He was very glad.





"Guess what, Patches?" cried McKim. "Mother and Father say they're going to accept me just as I am!" Patches jumped and barked joyfully.





McKim became a gay rights activist and gave consciousness raising talks to his classmates. "And by using a condom or dental dam every time you have sex, you can greatly reduce your chances of contracting HIV!" said McKim.





McKim's parents became avid readers of the P-FLAG newsletter. "Who needs a Tupperware party when we have all these P-FLAG meetings to go to?" remarked Mother.





McKim's family tried to accept his kinkier interests. "Father, will you buy me that leash for my birthday?" "But Patches already has a leash," said Father. "I didn't want it for Patches," said McKim. Father chuckled uncomfortably.





McKim's family even helped set him up with a good boyfriend. "What about this one, Father?" asked Sue. "10-year-old boy into fireman uniforms and bondage. Usually top but versatile. Is McKim a top or a bottom, Father?" "I think he's a bottom," said Father. "This looks like a good match for McKim."

