We stood on the model spot in front of the camera, me in the electric blue, Gerald in his yellow. We couldn't stop smiling. It was if we were high or something, which in a sense I guess we were. There would be no problem giving the impression that we were best friends for Rick's photos.

"So what kind of poses do we hafta do?", Gerald asked.

"Well, first of all, you gotta think like a country boy would think, I guess. Pretend that backdrop really is the inside of a barn, that the hay bails are the real deal. That your biggest concern is getting the field mowed or whatever."

"That maybe your idea of a good time literally is a roll in the hay?", Gerald smirked.

"Or swinging on a rope into the swimming hole or stuff like that."

"Show me."

I blinked. "Show you what?"

"Pose for me. Then I can see how your best farmboy buddy might join in."

"Um, okay. Well, I try to imagine I'm about ten years younger than I really am. That helps me get into the poses without feeling too stupid about it." I plopped myself down on the hay bails, my arms behind me holding me up, my big booted feet sticking straight out in front of me. I tilted my head to one side and flashed a sly grin.

Gerald laughed, pointing at me. "Dude! You just devolved to like nine years old!"

"Well, that's only nine years down, but you get the idea. I haven't even warmed up yet."

Gerald climbed onto the hay bails behind me and put his arms around me. "Say, Dickie, if we're best friends and all, and we grew up in the country, just us--"

"Yeeeess--?", I said, wondering where this was going.

"Well, we might be less inclined to withhold displays of affection for each other, right? I mean, just as best friends, like."

His arms were still draped around my shoulders, and I gingerly reached up and held onto his wrists. "Like how, exactly?", I asked.

"Well, just like this, really", Gerald explained. "Giving each other a hug, arms around each other's shoulders, possibly, um, if we were just out walking in the woods or the fields, maybe--" He reached down and placed his fingers atop mine. "--we'd maybe hold hands." And he slipped his fingers in between mine.

I twisted around slightly and looked him in the eye. I had never noticed how pretty his eyes were. "We might", I agreed.

He began to run his free hand up and down my sleeves, rubbing my arms through the blue rubber, kneading the tension from my shoulders, what little there was. "And you know what else we might do, as farmboys", he whispered in my ear.

"What's that?"

"We might rassle!" In a heartbeat, Ger had me in a bear hug tackle and we were off the hay bail and onto the floor. He spun and rolled, laughing, but though taken by surprise, I was not about to be undone by this upstart newcomer to my modeling world. I put up a good fight, if that's what our shenanigans could be called, but Gerald wound up sitting on top of me, smiling down in victory.

"Say uncle."

"Does anyone even say that anymore?", I asked. "Say uncle. What is that, anyway??" I looked up at Gerald his light-colored hair askew and littered with stray bits of straw.

"I have no clue what it means." He laughed, still panting a bit from our impromptu wrestling match. "Maybe it's just a way of saying you've submitted to the other guy."

I gazed up at him, the yellow sweatshirt complimented him so nicely. It contrasted his eyes, making them appear a deeper color, complimented his hair. "Yeah, maybe that's it", I agreed. Gerald just sat atop me, his breathing a bit labored. He stared as he did while examining me for his drawing. "Ger? You okay?"

"Ohh, I dunno...", he whispered back. "Dickie, I just...I can't help but think that...' and that was as far as he got. He went back to just staring. Tenderly, he brushed a shock of hair out of my eyes and sighed. "Dickie, I was actually thinking...I wanted to ask if it was okay if I--"

I couldn't help myself. I reached up and grabbed Gerald's bib straps and yanked him down towards me. Our lips connected and I kissed him. He struggled a bit at first, mostly since I'd taken him by surprise I'm guessing, but then he let go and gave in to it, returning it with all the energy I gave to him. After ten seconds or so, our lips parted.

"Umm...", he began, "I was gonna ask you if it's okay if I kiss you."

I smiled broadly. "Sure. Knock yourself out." I put my arms around his neck and we returned to our embrace. We rolled over onto our sides, our arms moving everywhere at once. Gerald tenderly grasped and massaged my arms as I kneaded his shoulders. As I held onto his back, his hands found their way under my bib, caressing my chest, rubbing my abs. Soon one of his hands was traveling downward, his palm flat as it pressed against the rubber undersuit stretched across my penis. I yelped with surprise, the sound muffled by our kissing. As he continued to rub and massage my member, I reached down and grabbed his ass, making him yelp a little, too.

For the better part of fifteen minutes we made out, groping and holding each other, hands around the other's back, supporting his neck, fingering his hair. "Y'know", Gerald said between kisses, "this is my first kiss. My first--well, everything. How'm I doing?"

"Smashing", I said, bracing his head in my hands and kissing his face. "I'm very impressed. My first time, too. Review?"

He leaned forward to nibble my ear, commenting, "You're likewise impressive." He proceeded to knead my shoulders again, then folded his arms around my back as he kissed my neck. We tilted lazily to one side, knocking the prop hay bails aside. Then Gerald and I came up for air, each of us brushing the other's hair from his eyes, picking off bits of straw from our increasingly static-clingy rubber shirts. "Hey", Gerald realized, "we're having our very first roll in the hay."

"That we are", I agreed, leaning in to rub my nose gently against his, then kiss him again and again.

Some miles away at the photo center, Rick approached the counter and set down his various multi-packs of film. The sales lady, who might be pretty if not for the eyebrow and nose rings, smiled. "Were you able to find what you needed, sir?"

Rick began to answer when he paused, his head titled slightly to one side, and smiled. "Yes", he said. "Yes, I'd say I have just what I need."

The two of us lay side-by-side in the prop hay, arms resting over our chests, rocking our heels back and forth, the toes of our big rubber boots clunking against each other every alternate beat.

"Well, that was fun", Gerald said.

I started to laugh. "Yeah, but now my suit's all sweaty."

"That's part of the point of wearing it", he said. "So, is it like, wet and sweaty here?" He fingered my undersuit through the gap between my overall's side buttons.

"Wh-what're you doing? Stop that!"

"Oh, so you're ticklish, huh?", he said with devilish glee.

"No! I never said that!"

Next thing I knew, Gerald was on top of me, madly tickling me, his hands shoved under my faded denim bib, sadistic fingers running like manic spider legs over my ribs, belly, and backside. "Looks like it to me."

I was laughing like a hyena, uncontrollably. "S-s-st-stoppp! I'll pee my pants!"

"So? They're rubber inside. You won't hurt anything."

I kept laughing, feeling freer than I had in ages, with this beautiful boy sitting atop me, keeping me captive. He stopped his tickle torture, and my laughter slowly subsided. Gerald stared down at me, his palms flat on the floor above my shoulders. Quietly, he said, "God, you're cute."

He began to lower his head toward me, his lips parting to reach mine.

"So. You boys ready for a photo shoot?"

My head snapped around to see Rick standing nearby. I hadn't heard him come in. His expression was unreadable. I had no idea what he may have seen.

Gerald hopped off me, all smiles. "Boy, are we!" He held out a hand to me to lift me up. "Shall we?"

"Okay, that's a wrap!", Rick told us.

"Aw, already?", Gerald whined.

"Guys, that's four rolls of film. Take five, for Pete's sake."

"Yeah, dude, let me down." I sat upon Gerald's back, riding piggy-back, as he held me up by my legs. He had insisted on keeping me there for the last six shots.

"Okay, if I gotta." Reluctantly, he lowered me to my feet.

"Fellas, why don't you get changed out of costume. The combo of the photo lights and your horseplay is gonna have you pretty ripe", Rick admonished. "Dickie, you leave your street clothes in the bedroom?"

"You mean my straight person disguise? Yep. I'll change first." I disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar by about an inch. I had nothing left to hide from these two friends.

Rick wound up the cord to his camera's air release. He looked at Gerald, who was watching the door. "That doesn't bother you?"

Gerald looked back at Rick. "What, that he's gay? It shouldn't matter to a real friend." Then, defensively, "Why, does it bother you?"

Rick looked Gerald over and saw his comment was sincere. "Not in the least." Rick began to shut off the photo lights. "Great costume you chose for him, by the way. I wouldn't have thought of it."

Gerald looked back at the door and his eyes danced. "Yeah. He really looks good in blue." Gerald's mouth split into a grin that spoke of more than mere friendship.

"I half expected both of you to be in matching red outfits--", Rick began.

"Y'know, he told me all about what happened here with Ben", Gerald interrupted. He put his hands into his back pockets. "Good thing I wasn't here. I would've kicked his ass."

"It took some effort not to throw the kid out on his ear", Rick agreed.

"Why didn't you?", Gerald asked, his tone acquiring an edge.

"Well, he was wearing my clothes, for one thing", Rick smiled. Then, more seriously, he added, "And sometimes we have to learn unpleasant things about people we think are our friends for ourselves." He busied himself with his photo equipment for a moment, then asked, "Or do you think Dickie would have believed me if I just told him about the kind of person Ben was?"

Gerald's shoulders sagged, he exhaled heavily. "No, I suppose not."

"You really like those yellow boots, don't you?", Rick inquired, changing the subject.

"I love 'em. They rock."

"You wanna take 'em home with you? Your whole suits? Both of you, I mean."

Gerald's eyes practically sparkled. "You mean it?!"

"As long as you take care of them and get them back here in one piece."

I walked out of the bedroom then, my straight person disguise in place. Gerald almost jumped over and hugged me.

"Dickie! Rick says we can take the outfit with us!"

I looked at Rick, my eyes wide, conveying the unspoken question, "Really?" He nodded. "There's a duffle in the closet. Take good care of them, I'll let you know when I need them back for another shoot."

"Rick, that is so awesome", I beamed. "Thank-you so much. I don't know how to--"

Gerald stuck his head out of the bedroom door. He was already shirtless. "Buddy! Later on, I so want to see how you look in the yellow!" He slammed the door as he leapt back inside.

Rick put away the last of his photo equipment, and began to sweep up the bits of hay and straw, his hands doing the work as if on autopilot, his eyes and his smile on me.

The next several photo shoots, Gerald and I were the dynamic frickin' duo. We posed as superheroes (he insisted I was his sidekick, I said we were partners). We were both football players, and Gerald looked totally hot in that uniform. We got to be spacemen with green face paint, pointy ears, and antennae. We donned chains and safety pin-riddled leather jackets and spiked our hair with washable dye to be punk rockers. We even faked dramatic skateboarding stunts in low-riding elephant pants and baseball caps worn backwards to be thrashers. It was while Gerald and I were those two rebellious skateboarders that Rick made his announcement.

"Listen fellas, I need to go out of town for the weekend, and I need someone to watch my place." Gerald and I exchanged this-is-too-good-to-be-true looks. You've got the run of the fridge, the stereo, and the VCR.

"And the costumes?", Gerald prompted.

Rick rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, naturally, the costumes. But I need you two to stick close on Friday and Saturday, though. I'm expecting a package, and if there's no one to accept, they won't leave it and I don't want to wait until Monday to have it."

Gerald and I responded in unison. "Deal!"

Rick was gone by Friday morning, and by Friday afternoon, Gerald and I had set up shop in number 37. In only two hours after my paper route, we had already tried on more than a dozen different costume combinations. We were baseball players who did an impromptu--and badly botched--run-through of "Who's On First?" Gerald finally got to be a chicken, and dragged me along for the ride. We got to be mechanical men of glittery foam metal and wind up each other's key. We were two of the Three Musketeers and had a swordfight with wilting foils. We ate our delivery pizza in front of the TV, watching videos from Rick's library as Flash Gordon (me) and Buck Rogers (Gerald), which is basically the same thing.

We closed out the evening by playing Rick's old records and slow dancing while dressed in full wetsuits, with hood, flippers, and fake oxygen tanks. We crashed in the wee hours dressed, at Gerald's insistence, in adult-sized footed toddler jumpers. I made damn sure the camera had been hidden away before I agreed to that. We fell asleep in each other's arms atop our combined sleeping bags, Gerald still clutching his prop bottle.

Saturday was much the same, only this time it involved more making out and less dress up. Ger and I were fully costumed, sitting on the living room rug lost in our kissing, when Rick's anticipated delivery arrived.

The doorbell chimed, and I jingled my way over to answer it. I was currently dressed in the most incredible jester costume entirely of purples and pinks. Color-wise, I was split down the middle, one side purple, the other pink, the color pattern of the loose tunic and pants of my tights being reversed. I had on a cool headpiece/hood with three long floppy donkey ear attachments, each ending in a gold bell. Bells hung from my skirt as well. My boots had pointy toes. I looked absolutely ludicrous. I looked awesome.

I opened the door. "Yeah?"

The guy in the brown delivery uniform was checking something off his clipboard, when he looked up, saw me, and just sort of went into freeze frame.

"Yeah?", I repeated.

After a moment's silence, the man mechanically held out a good-sized cardboard box. "...package..."

I snatched it away quickly. "Oh, great! We've been expecting this! Thanks." The guy just stood there. "Sorry, do you need a signature or something?", I asked him. Slowly, he shook his head. "Okay, cool." I closed the door on him, as he continued to stand there, staring.

Gerald stood behind me, dressed up as a cowboy. He had on the whole deal, complete with checkered shirt, Stetson hat, leather vest and sheriff's badge, gun belt, big ol' chaps and cowboy boots. He adjusted the brim of his Stetson, saying, "Gee. What do you suppose his problem was?"

"Search me", I shrugged. I moved to place the package on the kitchen counter, but I stopped after a few steps. I tilted my head to one side, causing a slight jingle, and said, "You curious?"

Gerald stuck his thumbs in his gun belt. "Now, we done been told by thet good man ta leave his good parcel ay-lone till'n he gets beck. I represent the LAW in this-here town, and we done gots ta do whut's right, son."

"I can slice it open and reseal it so he'll never know it was ever tampered with."

Gerald arched one eyebrow. "Zat right?"

"Been doing it with my Christmas presents since I was twelve." I flicked one of my bells with my forefinger. Jin-jing.

"Cool." Gerald whipped out his toy pistols, spun them on each trigger finger, and shoved them back into their holsters. "Let's do it."

After carefully slitting open the box directly along the seam with an X-acto knife I pilfered from Rick's desk, we looked inside to see something colorful, reds and yellows mostly, folded beneath bubble wrap. There was a note on top. I took it out and read it.

"Rick, here are the costumes you requested for your boys to wear for the storybook assignment. Can't wait to see the finished product. The country boy buddies were perfect! Best, Hal."

Like locusts, Gerald and I tore away the bubble wrap and pulled everything out of the box. There were two of everything. Big, oversized white shirts with frilled cuffs. Gigantic red pants with three big buttons along the front waistline. Yellow and black striped leggings/stocking/tights/whatever they were. Two pairs or clunky, bob-toed brown lace-up clownish shoes. Two yellow and red beanies with tiny black brims. One oversized yellow bow tie, one black.

"What the hell is all this shit?", I wondered aloud.

"Storybook...storybook...", Gerald was running it over in his mind. Then, "Oh, wait! I know what this is! Unfold the shirts!"

We did so, and revealed two tremendous lace-trimmed collars. One bore the hand-stitched name of Tweedle-Dee, the other Tweedle-Dum.

"Oh, shit", I said. "No wonder he didn't want us to open this. He's playing off the fact that in his photos we look like cute little kids. This is humiliating."

Gerald, however, didn't look particularly humiliated. He tossed one of the lace shirts at me. "I will if you will." Then he added, "Tweedle-Dum."

"No fucking way! I got here first, howcum I hafta be "Dum"??"

Cowboy Gerald drew one of his pistols and leveled it at me. "Son, I hereby order y'all to dress up Tweedle-Dum in the name o' the law."

I screwed up my face like a caricature. "Dagnabbit! It's thet blasted varmint Sheriff Gerald, done makin' me dress up right silly agin!" We grabbed up our new outfits and dashed to the bedroom to change. I jingled all the way.