BAE BOY

3

I love the fruit trees most because they give us presents. In fact, I used to depend on fruit trees when my family was living on the streets pretty much. So being able to have all I want and not worry about somebody catching me at it is pretty dope.

I make sure none of it gets wasted, too. We take big old bushel baskets of stuff to the Food Bank or I'll just go give it to people in the parks and whatnot myself. I'm pretty sure the people who built that house never thought of that.

Average person will let fruit just rot there in the bowl on the table or wherever. Kids throw it away at lunch, too, at school. Got so bad they put out boxes for them to toss it in, with grocery bags in there for kids like me who might want to take some home.

I know how happy just peeling a big old orange can be to someone who hasn't had a decent meal in days. It's got water in it, and the pulp fills you up, too. In Tucson, in the hot months, that can save your life.

We also have a date palm, a real one, that drops the sweetest little nuggets you ever tasted. We have to get someone to cut the stalks down and then the dates we don't keep or give to friends I pass out, too. That's God's candy right there. Brown sugar, straight off the tree.

And I've wandered all off topic again—sorry. I think I just have so much crazy shit in my head that each train of thought leads to a new route and then another and then another. So get used to it.

Anyway, my little "guest" house is a miniature version of the bigger one. I used to joke that it was the slave quarters, because it really was built for the servants to live in. But it made the girls squirm whenever I said it, so I quit.

It's a pretty sweet little house, though. Not so little, first off. Two bedrooms. And it sits right behind the most flowery part of that garden, which is heaven, let me tell you. I open the big windows to let the perfume in all the time. Luckiest boy child on the planet, me.

Which is why when I'm away from home, I'm also generally bored to death. Seriously. I deserve an Oscar for the acting I do when I leave the house, trying to hide how friggin' sad the so-called "real" world seems to me.

I'm curious enough about other people and the world in general to smile and ask just enough questions to make everyone feel like I'm really listening. But mostly, I feel like your average person is just sort of making do in life.

I can hear it in their voices. See it in their eyes. And it bothers me sometimes. If life's not a party for you, turn up, you know? Find a way. Otherwise, what's the point?

Anyway, how we met and all, the girls and me, I'm not going to try to tell you all that right now. It's too long a story. But I'll tell you about them, though, my three fairy godmothers. Because I think their story is 'way more amazing than mine.

I don't have to tell you they're fine. That's why they're famous. And why all the strip club owners in the Southwest fought over them for years. Even now, every few months, someone, somewhere tries to entice them away from the man who made them more famous than they ever dreamed they'd be.

But that's not about to happen. They'd be crazy to jump the ship that took them to the Promised Land.

It's a sort of sexy Cinderella story. Except they were headliners already when it happened. At all the "best" titty bars in town and a lot of other towns, too. They had a helluva rep out our way.

So it rained mad money when they took the stage. And this is in a part of the country where the average yearly income per person is, like, $25,000, so I do not know where all that money was comin' from. But all the club owners were trying to get an exclusive contract with them, to get their share.