Once upon a time, in a far far away land,

So he had no other choice than to go work in the streets as a prostitute.

at least that's what he thought. He started rummaging through his drawers. What does a male prostitute wear to attract attention? He didn't have the goods to do the "tranny" thing.

Coming to the conclusion that less is more, he slipped on naught but a pair of ball-bustingly skinny Hot Topic jeans and took to the streets. His first night as a "cockotte" was

totally miserable. Nobody liked him. The Hot Topic threads were overpriced and pretty much run of the mill. Even his emotions failed him because they would not conform to

non-conformity. He was never part of the emos, goths, hipsters, straight-edge, gen-xers, nerdcore, hazmat hasbeens, beaners, oceanographers, bozos or any other clique cliche.

He tried, once, just because loneliness hurts. But no group accepted him, and he knew better than to try them all. So school became just a job to him. Get in, get out, graduate.

Until he finally decided not to go. But then he got put into juvy for skipping. So he ran away. But got caught when he applied for a job. Juvy again. He finally ran to Mexico.

The Mexican Challlenge Ultra Run was the worst he'd ever done. Dead last. He hadn't trained with border patrol in mind. Nor had he considered that Baja ended in

A 'ja', he thought it ended in 'ha', like it's pronounced. Damn you, Mexico! He thought the MexicanChallengeRun was about tacos, not digging a tunnel from the border to SD. Silly.