Kid Gammon – Jay Passer

December 28, 2025

He shows me the game using sign gibberish to beat on me regularly without actually engaging physical assault. Some distant inbred cousin. He’s feeble awkward clumsy loathsome and a bit touched. Found me a little victim churns through the haywire of his brainpan. Found me one. Play nice echoes from the distance. Call him idiot savant. Penchant for doubles is his claim to glory he rubs his hands in glee stubby fingers clutching the dice. Sixes mother fucker sixes! Never fails to eke out of a pinch. Years pass. I can’t ever seem to beat him. After losing yet another game I scamper off crying into the pantry. Into the hallway. Into the closet. Where I masturbate furiously. I can’t even ejaculate yet. Dry heaves of the prepubescent. With me disappeared he wanders the house in search of the dog to kick. The dog can’t snitch that’s why he kicks it. The dog and I cower together in fearful humiliation. That kid needs to die I tell the dog. The dog wags its tail in the dark of the closet. I hear it bat against the door with a steady beat. It’s safe in the closet. The dog is my friend. We are a gang of two. At least the dog can’t ever learn how to play the game. That much is certain. I tell the dog I’m glad you’re not a monkey.