Meat-face and Irwin wandered into the park area near Washington D.C.'s Dupont Circle that was called "P Street Beach."
"See, this is where the faggots hang out, Irwin." Meat said to his grinning cousin. "This is a better use for our steel Louisville Sluggers than the bullshit that Molinari wanted."
Irwin grunted in assent. Mr. Molinari, their probation officer, had set them up with a softball league.
He'd thought would keep the 20 year old thugs out of trouble, give them a purpose, and an outlet for their hostility.
They were going to use the bats as an outlet, all right.
Irwin was just pure evil, but Meat knew he was on a mission here. He felt these uncomfortable urges, and when he'd been in locker rooms or other places where sweaty naked guys hung out, he'd found himself doing stuff...
He'd sucked a guy's root before! Then, of course he'd beaten the shit out of the faggot, for seducing him into it.
It had destroyed his normal feelings, poor Meat. Priscilla, his chick complained that Meat didn't get "handsy" with her no more.
He found himself in public restrooms, actually letting wussy little guys fuck him in the ass. What the hell was wrong with Meat?
So he would get his own back tonight. Let's show these homos how to act.
They found a couple of fruits bum-fucking right near the bridge.
"We got to be careful, Meat-face" Irwin said, looking around nervously. Last year they had picked up a queer at one of those fag bars and told him they'd let him mess with them in the woods.
After he'd blown them both, they'd beaten the shit out of him and left him for dead, but he'd come to and the cops had found him.
They'd gotten arrested and the judge had sentenced them to work in a goddamn soup kitchen, but if it happened again, they could really be facing jail time.
Just for doing God's work, can you believe it?
Meat ignored Irwin, and stepped closer to the two men.
They both had their pants down and one had his hands on the huge wall that held up the bridge, and the other one was humping him.
There was a quiet whistle, and Meat and Irwin turned around, and there was Guido, Sugarfoot and Eyeball.
And yes, they had their Louisville Sluggers, too!
But the faggots heard the whistle, too, and looked up. The top man pulled his dirty penis out of the other one, and Meat, against his will, looked at it hungrily.
Even with the shit on it, wow, do I want to...no, no. It's 1977, and I should be getting laid in a disco. But I got to teach these perverts a lesson first!
"Ready for the party?" Eyeball laughed. Eyeball had smoked a little too much angel dust and just lived for this shit.
The queers pulled up their perverted pants, and backed off "P-please don't hurt us." one said. Meat-face saw the guy had a wedding ring on.
His poor wife, think about it. He's out here having fun and she's at home! Not having fun, Meat-face. Doing sick shit.
"Ready to meet God, you sodomites?" Sugarfoot screamed. Sugar's daddy was a Pentocostal preacher.
Meat's dick got hard as he watched the little fairies pleading and crying.
"How about you boys, ready to meet the hospital?"
This friendly voice came from behind them.