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"I thought you wanted directions."

"Naw. Just yer money."

"I have none on me to give."

"Maybe we can persuade you."


I was going home from school, taking one of the seedier shortcuts across to the subway entrance. As I approached one of the alleys between two buildings, I saw two mean-looking men a little too close to a man in a black suit. It looked suspicious, and as I approached, I saw one was pulling a gun. It was a mugging! I dropped my backpack and ran towards them. Before the second thug saw me, I did a flying kick right into the man with the gun. I had studied jiu-jitsu for a year and now intended to make full use of it on these dirtbags.

The two were taken off-guard and both just ran.

The man in the black suit remained as calm as before. He looked at me with a bemused look on his face. Along with black slacks and sports jacket, he wore an open-collar white shirt and black loafers. His hair was black and his face had an unusual angularity. Though beardless, if he had had one he would have been a dead-wringer for Abraham Lincoln. In fact, I expected him to say, "How stands the Union, boy?" though this is Canada, in fact Scarborough, a suburb of Toronto.

"I suppose I should thank you," the man said in a soft mellow baritone. "What is your name?"


"Thank you, Josh. Those men intended to rob me, though I have nothing to give them. And though I appreciate your help, it would have given me pleasure to deal with them myself. Where are you headed?"

"The subway."

"I'll walk with you. Lead the way."

I picked up my backpack and we started walking on the sidewalk. When I looked at him again, he was walking with a black runed walking stick I could have sworn he wasn't holding before.

"You may address me as...Mr. Prince," the man said.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"Oh, no." We walked for a bit then he said, "I noted your kick. From a martial art used originally by Oriental monks for self-defense?"

"That's right. I've trained in jiu-jitsu."

And Prince looked intrigued. "Hmm. You are a student."

"In my last year of high school."

"Hmm. I myself have been...away for some time. So much has changed."

"You've been overseas?"

Looking at the sidewalk, Prince said, deadpan, "No. I was detained by cantankerous elemental forces in the fifth dimension. I had to gather my strength before escaping."


Prince merely raised an eyebrow and looked at me in the manner of a schoolteacher and said rather didactically, "The fifth dimension is home to all noetic lifeforms and those strong enough to travel there. I was visiting friends and later was ambushed."

"How long were you there?" I said incredulously.

"In three-dimensional terms, close to two thousand years. But there it felt like a troubling moment."

I wondered if I had rescued a nut from the sanitarium out on a day-pass. Seeing my confusion, the man only smiled gently.

"I know these things sound strange to you, Josh. But they are true. I have been around for a very long time. The Phoenicians called me The Holy Insurgent. The Egyptians called me Thoth. The Greeks called me Hermes Trismegistus or Prometheus, the Giver of Gifts to Man."

"And the Christians called you Jesus," I said, then bit my own lip. I didn't know if the man would become violent. But Prince only chuckled.

"No. That poor man's life was manipulated, misinterpreted, and all too brief. Many like he died at that time. His followers instituted a mockery of his teachings based on power lust and mental coercion which I see still exists in self-righteous billboards. The corporate church's ideas about the Second Coming were a complete distortion of soular dynamics."

"I flunked physics."

"No. I'm not talking about three-dimensional physical laws. I mean the science of individualized consciousness, the dynamics of the soul."

I had to think about that. Much of this was way over my head. Was it real or just gibberish? I kept myself alert in case Prince would attack without notice.

Prince continued. "Some misguided people called me the Adam Kadmon or First Man. But this goes too far. I am not the progenitor of your race, only a helper."

I watched him. He looked forward now and walked sure-footed slowly and graciously with the black runed stick. When he saw me looking at him, he looked at me and smiled. His eyes were dreamy now, not stern, yet strangely sad, full of kindness, and something else. What was the word? Grace? Transcendance? A crazy man is diseased, and such dis-ease is obvious in his eyes and demeanor. But this man was perfectly at ease, as if time itself were his servant instead of his master. His smile was gentle, so unlike other men, gay or straight. I wished my own father could have smiled at me with half that tenderness. I wondered if Prince was gay. Wasn't it in the papers a couple of years back that Abraham Lincoln slept with a roommate Joshua Speed for three years? Who knows how close they really were? If Lincoln was like this Mr. Prince, I'd have slept with him in a second, if he was willing. What did I really feel for this guy? He looked to be forty, but this was deceptive. When he turned to look at something, his face seemed to change, his curiosity making him become instantly younger.

We arrived at the subway entrance, and Prince looked intently at me.

"Well, I guess this means good-bye," he said to me.


"Let me give you something. Bravery must always be rewarded."

And he reached forward into the air, and though I was watching like a hawk, he seemed to pull a square white opaque packet right out of the air. He gave it to me, smiling his dreamy smile.

"What's this?" I asked.

He paused, carefully weighing his words. "Oh, just a little something. I fought Otis the Shapeshifter in the fifth dimensional construct your Greek ancestors called Olympus. He was committing crimes, so I put a stop to it and took away his possessions. He had a whole laboratory and stockroom of documented transformative mixtures. This one will provide temporary material transformation by initiating electro-magnetic field engagement conducive with a third dimensional body and the fourth dimension, crudely described as a spatial displacement in the third dimension protected by fourth dimensional time fields. Perfectly safe. Experiment on yourself first. The transformation lasts approximately twelve hours until the mixture is filtered out of the body. But keep in mind, once the powder is gone, it cannot be reproduced. The elements do not exist and cannot be created with current technology in this third-dimensional material world."

"Unless you give me more."

Prince smiled broadly with perfect white teeth.

"Or unless I give you more," he said softly.

As I took the packet and looked at it, I said, "Why are you giving me this, Mr. Prince?"

And he touched my floppy blonde bangs and cupped my cheek with his left hand in one smooth movement and said, "Because I LOVE you, Josh," and he said it with such firm conviction that my breath caught and my eyes instantly welled with tears. It reminded me of F. Murray Abraham as Salieri in "Amadeus" giving his absolution to his fellow asylum wretches as The Patron Saint of Mediocrity. 'And I absolve YOU.' I cried then too. I put both hands to my eyes to brush away my wet eyes. And when I turned to look back to say thank you, Prince was gone. I looked all around. He had disappeared. Was it all a dream, or had an ancient man/god walked and talked with me, then vanished into thin air? Yet, there was the packet of powder.

I brooded on the packed subway stuffed into a corner seat. I saw a spikey-haired skaterboy slouched in his seat on the opposite side and further down. He was dressed in baggy khakis and an oversized hooded sweatshirt so big only half of his hands showed. He was slouching so bad, his ass was almost off the seat. It looked like he was made of rubber and slowly oozing down onto the floor. He stared straight ahead, totally oblivious. His brain was probably fried from too much Ecstacy or some other drug. That's the trouble with guys my age, especially straight guys. They know they're the majority and they can pick up a horny girl anytime so there's no problem. And they're totally unaware of their looks and sexuality. Some even think the sloppier one is the sexier one is. Well, I couldn't stop looking at his loose-limbed, seemingly boneless body and imagined playing with him, bending him like a deflated rubber doll, then getting off in his stretchable bum. I had to casually move my hands over my crotch to cover my growing boner.

When I got home, I did homework early and was pretty glum at dinner. I went back to my room, finished off homework, staring continually at the white packet on my desk.

Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I locked my door, then I tore open a small piece of the corner and dabbed a bit of the powder on my finger and put it to my tongue. It tingled at first on my tongue, and was sweet like sugar. The tip of my tongue began to feel very strange, almost disconnected from reality. I couldn't begin to explain the feelings. It was not unreal but super-real, as if one could say, "Yes, this is how reality REALLY is." I touched the tip of my tongue and it felt...I don't know!...rubbery? I pulled the tip of my tongue and was aghast when I saw my tongue easily stretch out two feet as if it were nothing at all. My tongue retracted when I released it from shock. And I was instantly shaking. Once I got over it though, the possibilities were just too enticing and I put more powder on my tongue and soon I was willing my tongue to stretch out and lick me all over my own face and ears. I threw off my sweatshirt and began licking myself all over my chest, shoulders, and back with a tongue that could stretch to any length I chose. I threw off my high-tops, sweatpants, and briefs and began licking myself all over, including licking my own d*ck and bum.

After jacking off into a Kleenex (from the weirdest and hottest erotic event I've ever had), I sealed the packet of powder and hid it in a safe place where no one but me could find it. I've got to get together with my friends. We'll have the hottest orgy gay guys have ever had.



The Holy Insurgent of Uncertainty