throw their voice down, but you can feel with your ear they're gay as a hootowl.

He said his name was Wally, Wally Wallwallski, and I think that shook me up. He didn't sound like he thought there was anything campy in such a name, he just said that was his name. Wally was the name Jerry had given me, all right, but no Wallwallski. Then before I knew it I was giving directions, and he said he'd be right there and hung up. Of course, I phoned Jerry but there was

no answer.

I usually timed my carriage-trade tricks so the doorbell rang when I'm in the shower and I'd answer the door in just a towel. No sense in getting bogged down with conversation. But this time I rushed through the shower and got dressed.

I was glad I did when he came in. Mary! This is gay? I said.

About six foot, lean looking, and with blond hair any belle would have given her right hand for and spent hours working on, but his was combed right straight back. And with dark brown skin. Mary! I mean, I don't like blonds unless they're butch, and I mean almost straight looking, even kind of mean looking, and with dark skin. Those are the only blonds I've ever liked.

And he was butch as hell, just kind of grunted hello and looked shifty-eyed around the place. I was scared. I mean, your old mother's dirt and vice-squad antenna was twitching like mad.

He said he'd have a beer, and I waited till he sat, then took the sofa across the room.

Well, we drank beer and tried to talk, but he wasn't much on talking, and I sure wasn't going to make the first move. Then in the third beer all of a sudden he moves to the sofa and makes the first move. I didn't do anything. Then he made the second move and the third.

Mary!

I mean well, it was such a screwy buildup, me all tensed up. What a party! Later over more beer, I really got to look him over. Mary!

In my time I've seen me some near perfect men, but Wally Wallwallski was tops, and I rate him tops cause he not only had perfect proportions in shoulders, arms, chest, hips, legs, but he was the only one I've ever seen that had external obliquesthose jutting side muscles those mad Greeks were so queer forand unflat feet. And if you don't think that's rare, you just start looking. I mean, You'll find hen's teeth before you'll find that combination, I bet. You just start looking. I once knew a physique-queen, one of those bodybuilders that goes to a gym. She was mad for external obliques and was determined to sprout some on herself. She worked at it for months. The poor thing completely ruined herself cause all she sprouted was a double hernia. She was so ashamed she left the state. And she had flat feet to begin with.

Well, I guess I kind of half expected that after the party we'd be letting our hair down. I thought the hairpins would be clattering on the floor like a hailstorm. But we sat there in front of the fireplace drinking beer, me admiring him and trying to make conversation, and finally I asked what kind of work he did. Junk dealer, he said.

Now, you might think I'd think he was kidding, but I didn't. I guess by that time I'd caught on to the fact that-well, he wasn't dumb, exactly, but he was one of these people you run into once in a while that seems to have no sense of humor. They just have no imagination, it seems, in that way, there is just no magic in them in that one particular regard. I can't put it right, but anyway,

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