My friend Sue Johnson’s real name is Larry, and when I label him, “he or him,” I’m not misgendering him because he’s not trans. He doesn’t think he’s a woman in a man’s body anymore than I think I’m a woman in a man’s body. He’s just a boy who likes to dress up like a girl. A girl with a big dick because I don’t know if I told you this before, but Sue is hung like a stallion. I never actually measured it, but Sue’s dick is at least 7.5″ long when fully erect. Compared to my miniature cocktail frank that’s a mouthful. One dog-choking big Italian salami.
In any event, Sue Johnson followed me to California, so he not only has a big dick, but he’s also a stalker. I didn’t ask him to come out here and when he said he wanted to “shack-up” with me, I told him he better find his own place because I already have three obnoxious roommates and I don’t need another. So, Sue found his own pad. Turns out he’s a trust funder and doesn’t need to work. He gets a check auto-deposited in his bank account every month. When he showed me his balance, I was speechless, and I decided having a boyfriend named Sue Johnson is okay after all because not only does he have a big pocket rocket but he’s also loaded. Even if he is a stalker.
Sue called me on the phone: “Hi, Becky? This is Sue Johnson.”
And I said, “No shit, Sue. I have caller ID—like everyone else in the free world—so I knew it was you.”
“Want to go camping this weekend? I heard about a clothing optional campground out near Palm Springs.”
“No way. I work way too hard to go sleep in a pup tent with a boy named Sue on my hard-earned weekend.”
“You used the word ‘hard’ twice in the same sentence, and I’m hard as a rock for a boy named Becky’s butt.”
“Yeah, well you’re hard-ly getting me up on my hands and knees in a pup tent, Romeo.”
“I was thinking of renting an RV.”
“With air conditioning and a shower?
“Of course.”
So I agreed to go camping with Sue Johnson. He rented an RV that was okay to hang out in, even if it did look sort of stupid with all the decals and stickers that screamed, “I just rented this dumb RV.” We drove east on I-10, past Palm Springs and out into the Sonoran Desert. We found the clothing optional campground and stopped at the entrance to buy a pass from a big fat lesbian park ranger with a mustache. (Personal pronouns: Josef Stalin and Salvador Dali.)
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