"Wiley!" Mama exclaimed. "Do not use that word in this house!"

"p.e.n.i.s," I said. "p.e.n.i.s p.e.n.i.s schmeenis. Who cares, Mama?"

"Oh, here we go," Sh.e.l.ly said, shaking her head sadly.

I stood, unzipping my pants.

"Would y'all like to see it?" I asked "Would that make you happy?"

The boys shrieked with laughter.

Papaw grinned and clapped his papery hands together. "Come on, f.a.g boy!" he cried happily. "Give them a good what for! Don't take it lying down!"

"Uncle Wiley!" Mary exclaimed. "You're such a pervert!"

"Sit down," Bill said.

"We went skinny-dipping!" I said. "It's not a crime in the state of Mississippi to go swimming with your w.i.l.l.y hanging out."

"You've got to free your w.i.l.l.y, Billy," Papaw said.

More laughter from the boys.

Bill turned red with rage.

"You see what I mean?" Mama said, looking at Bill. "You'll never get through to him. Everything is just a joke to him. He's just like his grandfather."

"Do we have to talk about this now?" Sh.e.l.ly demanded in a shrill voice.

"Why don't y'all just leave me alone?" I suggested, taking my seat.

"Leave his w.i.l.l.y alone," Papaw said. "G.o.d knows it needs all the rest it can get."

"You have a child to think about, Wiley," Bill said. "You can't just do anything you want. Would it kill you to think about Noah's best interests once in a while?"

"I could ask the same of you guys," I pointed out.

"I am am thinking about his best interests," Bill said. "The Bible makes it pretty clear what his best interests are." thinking about his best interests," Bill said. "The Bible makes it pretty clear what his best interests are."

"Does it?" I asked.

"Being exposed to your lifestyle is not part of the deal."

I braced myself for another dispatch from BaptistLand.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," Papaw said, "please tell Billy to shut his face."

"I intend to speak my mind," Bill said.

"Oh, Christians," Papaw said with a heavy sigh. "Always got to speak their f.u.c.king minds like we haven't heard it all a million times already. They think the sun rises just to hear them crow. What a bunch of Christless b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

"Don't swear in front of my kids, Papaw," Bill said hotly.

"Daddy, hush," Mama said.

"I'll swear anytime I G.o.dd.a.m.n want to, Billy Cantrell," Papaw replied. "You Christians are so uptight. Every time you sit down, I hold my breath because I'm afraid you'll suck the whole G.o.dd.a.m.n world up your a.s.ses."

"Daddy!" Mama cried.

"It's true, Martha. You should know. There's a hole in the sofa where you're always sitting. Probably got half the living room swirling around in your r.e.c.t.u.m. Billy's probably got half of Tupelo up his a.s.s. Next time something comes up missing, Sh.e.l.ly, just tell him to bend over and take a look in his a.s.s because that's probably where it is."

Mama shook her head sadly.

The boys laughed, sensing it was funny but not exactly sure why.

"Not in front of the kids, Papaw," Sh.e.l.ly pleaded.

"The truth ain't gonna hurt them," Papaw said. "They have to sit and listen to that Christless Baptist preacher of yours, don't they?"

"Papaw," Billy said earnestly, "being gay is so shameful in the sight of G.o.d that good people are told not to mention it in conversation. 'Man working with man that which is unseemly.' And here Wiley is, flaunting it in front of his son. Taking his son camping with his new boyfriend. Wallowing in sin. Man working with man-literally. Parading his nudity around like he's proud of himself."

"I don't think it's as bad as all of that," I said lightly, trying hard not to roll my eyes in the face of this missionary overture. Bill had never been much of a Catholic, but after he married Sh.e.l.ly and started hanging with the Baptists, he had become just as much of a fatuous b.a.s.t.a.r.d as the rest of them.

"Brother John says we're being steamrolled by the h.o.m.os.e.xual agenda," Bill went on, determined, "forced to accept sin as something normal, something we should be 'celebrating.' I'm not going to celebrate your sin, Wiley. And I'm not going to sit back in silence while you d.a.m.n my nephew to h.e.l.l."

"I thought the h.o.m.os.e.xual agenda was about having nice drapes," I said.

"Good one, Wiley," Papaw said, nodding his head.

"And what's this I hear about your singing at a gay rights protest again?" Bill asked. "Are you going to take Noah to another one of those? After the last time?"

"Yes, I am," I said.

"Wiley!" Mama exclaimed, shocked. "You can't take a child to those things!"

"I already have, Mama. Several of them, in fact."

"This is what I'm talking about," Bill said. "He doesn't care what he exposes Noah to."

"It's a human rights protest," I pointed out.

"But how could you take a child to something like that?" Sh.e.l.ly asked.

"He needs to know the truth about the world he lives in," I replied.

"Rub his nose in it," Bill said dismissively. "And you wonder why you can't get a decent job."

"And why is that, Billy?" I asked.

"Because n.o.body wants to hire a f.a.g," he said. "If you'd just play by the rules, you wouldn't have this problem."

"What rules are those, Bill?" Jackson asked.

"If you're my insurance agent and I find out you're gay, I'll be getting a new insurance agent," Bill said. "That's how it works. No insurance company is going to want an openly gay person selling insurance for them because they'll lose business. Same thing with used car salesmen, doctors, lawyers. If you don't respect our community and our values, we won't do business with you. That's how it is, and that's how it's going to stay because it's the right thing to do."

"That's... interesting," Jackson said quietly, as if he couldn't bring himself to believe what he was hearing.

"That's bigotry," I added.

"That's how we do things, Wiley," Bill said, "and if you ever want to get a decent job or make something of yourself, you need to get with the program. If you can't do that, at least keep your mouth shut about it and be discreet. Don't stand on a sidewalk for the whole world to see. People don't want it shoved down their throats."

Jackson gave me a sideways glance.

"If you're so smart and doing so well," Bill went on, "why do you live in a dump with crack wh.o.r.es walking around the neighborhood like they own it?"

"I don't think I've seen a crack wh.o.r.e since the late 1980s, Billy," I said. "I don't even know if they sell crack anymore."

"I find that hard to believe since Noah is a crack baby," he said, rather cruelly.

"He's not a crack baby," I said. "He's a meth baby. There's a difference."

"Whatever," he said dismissively.

"Crack babies," Papaw said, smiling.

"Are we really having this conversation?" Jackson asked in disbelief.

I offered him a smile.

"Why do you live in that bad neighborhood?" Bill wanted to know.

"It's close to Noah's school and close to my job."

"Oh," he said with exaggerated emphasis. "Your job job. Right. FoodWorld! n.o.body beats our meats! n.o.body beats our meats!"

"Why are you busting my b.a.l.l.s?" I asked.

"Wiley, when are you going to get a decent job? Stop living in public housing? Make something of yourself? It's not that complicated, bro."

"I'm a single father, in case you forgot."

"So?"

"I've lost out on a lot of jobs because I have to take care of Noah. I can't work any shift, any hours, any day, weekends, holidays-and that eliminates a lot of decent jobs. I'm doing the best I can."

"We have company, you guys," Mary said primly.

"Oh, to h.e.l.l with that," Bill said, shooting a nasty look at Jackson, who seemed extremely uncomfortable as he picked at his roast.

"You know how he is when he gets a burr up his b.u.t.t," Papaw observed. "When he was a little boy, we had to tie his hands to a fencepost to keep him from digging around in his own b.u.t.thole."

Bill sat back, blowing out a puff of angry air from his lips.

"Wiley's another story," Papaw went on. "We had to tie him up because he couldn't keep his hands off his own w.i.l.l.y. Boy used to sit out there on the fencepost baling his hay for the whole world to see. You just could not get him to stop. All f.u.c.king day that boy sat out there, beating his meat."

"Daddy, you cannot talk at the table like this!" Mama exclaimed loudly and angrily.

"It's true, Martha," he said. "Ain't you the one that asked me what the h.e.l.l we were going to do about it? Boy used to beat that meat so much we were afraid it was going to fall off. I swear to G.o.d, Sheriff Carter stopped in the driveway one day and told me to do something about it because the neighbors were sick of seeing it and the cows in the other pastures were afraid of him and wouldn't give milk no more."

Jackson looked at me as if to ascertain whether this was true or not.

I shrugged helplessly.

"Are you finished, Papaw?" Bill asked prissily.

"Oh excuse me," Papaw said. "Are we straying from your Christian bullc.r.a.p?"

"Why don't you just f.u.c.k off with your religion, Billy?" I added.

"Why don't you bite me?" Bill countered.

"Bill!" Sh.e.l.ly exclaimed.

"I'm sick of his bullc.r.a.p," Bill said hotly. "He can bite me for all I care."

"Bill!" Sh.e.l.ly repeated.

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you today?" I asked.

"You," he said with venom in his voice.

"And what have I done now?"

"Inviting some h.o.m.os.e.xual to go camping with you and Noah, that's what. Skinny-dipping and G.o.d knows what else you were doing out there while Noah was watching. Taking Noah to a gay rights march. Exposing him to all of this bullc.r.a.p. Once in a while I wish you would think about what you're doing, how it might to look to other people."

"You're a.s.suming I give a s.h.i.t."

"You should."

"And why is that?"

"Because we live in the real world. This isn't like some scene from one your stupid novels, Wiley. This is the real world. You like to take it up the wazoo. Good for you! But don't involve your son in it."

"I don't recall involving my son in it."

"You're parading it around in front of him."

"Why are you guys so obsessed with my p.e.n.i.s?"