Oxydol Poisoning Part Nine

Earl Jackson, Jr.

At least the mortification my parents suffered at my expulsion
explained why my eighteenth birthday was not celebrated, if not the previous
seven. I intended to celebrate this one myself, because I now had my draft
card, which then was legal proof of age accepted at liquor stores and bars.
The liquor stores had a special florescent lamp by the cash register which
somehow verified the draft card’s authenticity. With that card in my pocket
(despite the dread of its other implications) I went off to the downtown
library, where I spent a great deal of time. I met a black guy there in
his thirties, very smooth talking and really nice. He reminded me of Mr.Williams.
He asked me to come home with him, but I bowed out, uncertain of the nature
of his interest and not really wanting to experiment sexually. I was also
afraid of his neighborhood, the „East Side“ of my parents‘ nightmare-ridden
cosmology. I said I had things to do, but I would be back the next day
around the same time.

The following day we talked in the library lounge for
a while and then he offered me a ride home, saying his friend with a car
was waiting for him at the back entrance (facing the east side of Buffalo
– the main entrance being on Main Street.) I accepted and got in the back.
We were driving for quite a while when I mentioned that the direction was
wrong. They informed me thay had other plans and everything would be fine
as long as I stayed cool. They took me to a basement apartment whose inside
door was guarded by a German shepherd on a chain. The shades were all drawn
tight. We were so far in the East Side I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid
of remaining in the basement with them or risking the street by myself.
They took turns raping me. I felt guilty about not resisting, but I didn’t
know how or what good it would do. I also became angry with them for interfering
in my attempts to free myself from my parents‘ racialized horror stories.
At one point I made a mental note to observe the exact address when I left
(however that would come about) so that in a few weeks I could send them
an anonymous chocolate cake that would have poison in it. I wondered what
kind of poison couldn’t be tasted through the mix. I thought better of
it, realizing I couldn’t kill anyone just for raping me, and because it
might be misconstrued as racist. And I was afraid they would give it to
the dog.

Eventually I heard them tell me it was time to go. They
drove me as far as the parking lot of Sears, which, like the Library, bordered
the East and West sides. This was the same branch to which Mr. Williams
had brought me nine years earlier. Once the pair drove off, I decided this
was a good chance to get my draftcard plasticized. I always liked the popcorn
at Sears, in the long bag imprinted with a man’s head the shape of a popcorn
cylinder. The popcorn vender was directly next to the card plasticizer.
It was my lucky day. Not typical for a birthday. I walked home, eating
the popcorn, occasionally checking to see if the blood that was darkening
the top of one of my socks had dried.

Oxydol Poisoning ~ Earl Jackson, Jr.















The Responsibility to Difference
Theorizing Race and Ethnicity
in Lesbian and Gay Studies

Desire at Cross[Cultural] Purposes:
Hiroshima, Mon Amour and
Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence

Another Scene


Earl Jackson, Jr.
Another Scene