Date: Thu, 23 Mar 2000 16:51:07 EST
From: DEANECHRIS@aol.com
Subject: Story Submission - Draft Dodger On The Rag - A Bunny's Tale

DRAFT DOGER ON THE RAG - A BUNNY'S TALE

By: Deane Christopher

Copyrighted: 2000

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	Draft Dodger on the Rag - A Bunny's Tale is the direct result of
three different ideas coming together to form the bases for a single story.
It all started with a suggestion from Mindy Rich for me to use some or all
of the photos that she had posted on the Original Fictionmania form the
made for TV movie A Bunny's Tale staring Kristie Alley for a future story
with images submission.  Secondly, at the time there was some discussion on
Fictionmania's Hyperboard revolving around the writing of TG based Romance
Stories, the same discussions that I believe may have prompted Femur to
host a Romance Writing Contest.  While I knew that I could never complete
Draft Dodger on the Rag - A Bunny's Tale in time to submit it to Femur's
Contest, I was nonetheless intrigued with the idea of trying my hand at a
story that had at its' core, a tread of romance.  Thirdly, I wished to
formulate yet another story that had its' protagonist reluctantly opt to
become a female rather than face some other less desirable consequences,
much as I had in my story The Witness Protection Plan with a TG Twist.

	Once again, I would like to apologize for writing yet another long
and ponderous story.  As odd as it might sound, it was never meant to be as
long as it is.  However, as these things often happen, once created, the
characters pretty much took over the story and took it places I never ever
expect it to go.

	I would l like to take this opportunity to dedicate this story to
MINDY RICH and her brainchild FICTIONMANIA.

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DRAFT DODGER ON THE RAGE - A BUNNY'S TALE

(With full apologies to the late, great topical singer song-writer Phil
Ochs.)


	Nineteen Sixty Seven started out as a bad year for one Joshua
Everett Oats.  Trouble was, as the year lengthened towards Nineteen Sixty
Eight, it only got worse.

	On the Feast of the Epiphany, just six days into the new year, the
current love of Josh's life gave him the big kiss-off.

	Four weeks after that, in a mandatory meeting proscribed by a grade
point average that had taken a serious, but far from fatal turn for the
worst, a mutual decision was arrived upon.  Josh, who had always defer to
authority figures prior to that point in his life, got his dander up and
vehemently complained that his grade point average was more the college's
fault than his.

	As far as Josh was concerned, if the powers that be had hired
competent teachers to begin with, then they wouldn't have had to give two
of his fall semester teachers their walking papers; one, only six classes
before finals, and the other, only three classes prior to term's end.
Then, to add insult to injury, though Josh had aced one of the
departmentally prepared finals and scored an eighty eight percent on the
other, he was only credited with a pair of 'C's for the two courses.  When
asked why that was so, Josh was perfunctory informed that, due to the fact
that no other grades had been recorded by the recently and righteously
dismissed incompetent teacher want-a-bes, the college could only see their
way clear to granting a 'C' for a passing grade on the final exam.

	That pissed Josh off royally.  Emphatically, becoming more than a
little boisterous in the process, he told his guidance councilor and the
pompous ass who functioning as the assistant dean of students that it
wasn't fair.  He had been carrying solid 'Bs' in the other two classes he
had been taking that semester.  However, due to the vast amount of cramming
he had done in marathon all-nighters in order to get ready for the two
exams that the respective department heads had prepared as a means to
salvage those damn near worthless courses, Josh had, due to severe time
constraints, neglected to adequately prepare himself for the other two
exams he had to take that semester.  That being the case, Josh proceeded on
to point out the fact that as far as he was concerned, it was neither fair
nor just that he end up with four 'Cs' instead of one 'A', one 'B' and the
two four credit 'Cs' he had ended up with as a result of what had occurred
through no fault of his own.

	While both his guidance councilor and the assistant dean of
students freely conceded all the points that he made to be valid ones, Josh
failed in his attempts to obtain the concessions he felt entirely justified
in requesting.

	Basically, what it all came down to was your basic love it or leave
it kind of situation.

	Josh, opted for that later.  Taking an immense amount of pure,
unadulterated pleasure in doing so, Josh, astounding the shit out of
himself as he did so, uncharacteristically informed the pair of them that
they could take that Mickey Mouse community college of theirs and cram it
up where the sun don't shine!  Sideways!

	Exhilarated beyond belief, Josh Everett Oats stormed out of the
conference room, briskly strolled across the college's entrance foyer and
out into the central quadrangle, where upon, he gleefully embraced the
soaring joy that rides the Icarus-like wings of righteous indignation.
However, by the time Josh made it out to the school's student parking lot
and his dilapidated, hideous, drab green VW micro-bus, the reality of the
situation hit him like a bomb-bay load of 500 pounders dropped by a B52.

	He had just gone and lost his student deferment.  His hastily
spoken words had just made him 1A and therefore, a prime candidate for the
draft.  Next stop - Vietnam!

	Three years before, when he had been a junior in high school, an
older boy who had lived just a few houses down from the Oats, returned from
a tour of duty as a Special Forces Advisor in South Vietnam and, during one
of the many ensuing conversations, adamantly informed the young and
extremely impressionable Josh that his participation in the fiasco that was
taking place in Vietnam was something that should be avoided at all cost.

	Those conversations presented Josh with a quandary that he could
never quite resolve.  On one hand, he sincerely believed that he owed his
country his service.  If he as a citizen of the United States of America
wished to enjoy the rights and liberties established by the founding
fathers as decreed within the Constitution of The United States and its'
ratified Amendments, Josh felt that he had an obligation to help preserve,
protect and defend both it and the republic those brilliantly stated and
cherished concepts had established.

	He believed in the citizen soldier.  He believed the best way for a
country to avoid war was to be always vigilant, always prepared and ready
to fight at the drop of a hat should the need arise.  And once engaged,
Josh believed that the war should be prosecuted with all the resources,
manpower and fervor that the United States could bring to bare against the
enemy.

	Trouble was, technically speaking, though Americans were fighting
and dying there, Vietnam wasn't a war.  It was a conflict.  A civil war.  A
fight between North Vietnam and South Vietnam.

	Everyone knew that North Vietnam wasn't a threat to the integrity
of the United States.  Furthermore, neither John Fitzgerald Kennedy nor
Lyndon Baines Johnson had had the balls to ask congress for a declaration
of war.  Nor, had the lily livered congress seen fit to declare one.  Yet,
American service men were being sent there to fight and die in ever
increasing numbers.

	There was no way in hell that Josh wanted to be involved in a war
that he believed to be unconstitutional and therefore, an illegal one.  If
the government was going to ask him to fight and possible die for a
country, he damn right well wanted that country to be the good old U. S. of
A.!

	However, even though he felt that way, Josh still believed that he
owed his country his service.  And because he did, fully aware that he
could always end up on small, lightly armed, swift patrol craft warily
cruising up and down some God forsaken section of the Mekong River or one
of its' numerous tributaries, Josh did what he deemed to be the honorable
thing.  During the first week of February, he went to see a Navy recruiter.

	At the time, the recruiter informed Josh that the Navy was
employing what was termed a delayed enlistment program and that were he to
enlist, he would be dutifully sworn in at the time of his physical and six
months later, at the Navy's expense, report for duty at the Navy's Great
Lakes Training Center.  However, as the recruiter continued through the
litany of items that had to be covered, he chanced upon a bug-a-boo that
could prevent Josh from being inducted into the United States Navy.

	Roughly fifteen months before all this was transpiring, Josh had
experienced a spontaneous pneumothorax of his right lung.  Somehow, though
his doctor never could ascertain the exit point, air had passed out of his
lung and into his chest cavity, partial deflating the lung in the process.

	The chief petty officer at the Navy recruitment center suggested
that if Josh really wanted to enlist in the Navy, a waiver from his doctor
might do the trick.  Though it meant that Josh would have to serve a full
six years of active duty, the electronic schools that the recruiter had
made mention of seemed like the way for him to go and so, Josh took the
CPO's advice to heart and made an appointment with the chest specialist
that had admitted him to the hospital and subsequently, pumped the residual
air out of his pleura membrane.

	Four weeks later, with waiver in hand, Josh reported to a local
Army base for his pre-induction physical.  After a grueling and
dehumanizing five hours that consisted of a lot more hurry up and wait than
the actual elements of the pre-induction physical he had let himself in
for, Josh, along with about fifteen other guys, was directed to proceed
into a room where the actual oath was to be administered.

	When it became his turn to do so, Josh handed his paperwork over to
the designated Army enlisted man who in turn, began to shuffle through it
to make sure everything was in order.  Coming upon the medical waiver, the
enlisted man, unsure as what to do with it, brought it to the attention of
his superior, a burly, barrel chested Navy CPO, who in turn, brought it to
the attention of the officer in charge, a very young and ill at ease
looking Navy lieutenant JG.  No one, it appeared, knew how to proceed and
because they didn't, a rather lengthy ad hoc discussion took place.

	Then, when the weathered faced CPO brought it to his lieutenant's
attention that they were running behind scheduled and that they had best
get their shit in gear and complete the induction ceremony with the
administering of the oath and the subsequent passing out of orders, the
lieutenant made a command decision to accept Josh's medical waiver at face
value.  Ten minutes later, with orders in hand to report to the Great Lakes
Naval Training Facilities in approximately six months time, Josh, now a
brand spanking new swabbie, proceeded out of the induction center and
proudly, feeling as if he had just done the right thing, made his way out
to the parking lot, en route to his soon to be up for sale, rust-eaten VW
micro-bus.

	Three weeks later, Josh's dad suffered a massive coronary.  Alerted
to the situation by the screaming entreatments of his near frantic mother,
Josh arrived on the scene and endeavored to revive his father through the
administration of CPR and mouth to mouth.  Even though he was fully
cognizant of the fact that his efforts had failed to sustain his dad's
life, Josh, for his mother's sake, kept at it until the ambulance crew
relieved him.

	Ironically, it was at the funeral home that a grieving Josh Oats
renewed his friendship with a girl that he had dated on an on and off bases
all throughout his high school years.

	A doctor could not have prescribed a better medicine to help Josh
deal with the tragic and unexpected loss of his father than the spunky and
extremely attractive Bitsy MacNamara.  Although she remained a constant and
confounding enigma for him to try and figure out, Bitsy was none the less
Josh's truest and most trusted friend.  He could tell her anything and
know, with a sheer and utter certainty, that whatever he had told her would
go no further.  And in like respect, Bitsy could confide him, knowing that
he would never think to betray her trust.

	As Bitsy so often quipped: they were soul-mates; joined at the
nexus of their eternal and quintessential beings.

	Josh valued their friendship, keenly aware that Bitsy valued it as
much or more so than he did himself.

 	Trouble was, each and every time Josh tried to take their
friendship to the next logical level, Bitsy either back away, ignored or
staunchly resisted his efforts.  But though she did, whenever he would call
her to see if she would like to go out somewhere together, like to a movie,
party, school sponsored dance or some other such social activity, it was
the rare occasion in which she did not take him up on the offer.

	To make matters worse, Josh's parents liked Bitsy so much that
early on in their association with her, they actually began to accorded her
as the daughter they never had, with the implication being that they
wouldn't be at all averse to one day having such a charming and vivacious
young woman as their daughter-in-law.  And to be honest, Josh wouldn't have
minded that eventuality one iota either, for Josh had been smitten with the
chestnut haired Bitsy MacNamara long before he ever got up the gumption to
call her up and ask her out.

	But then again, damn near every other swinging dick that Josh knew
or associated with, at one time or another, had had the hots for Bitsy
MacNamara, due to the fact that she was an unmitigated fox, who could have
easily had her pick of any guy she wanted.  Why she demeaned herself by
keeping company with an average joe like Josh, never failed to confound and
amaze him.

	He just couldn't quite figure her out.

	Each and every time Josh thought he had, damn if Bitsy didn't do
something, or say something, to further confuse and confound him.

	For instance, Bitsy would aggressively and insistently encourage
him to date other girls, going so far upon occasions as to even arrange
blind dates for him, and then act all jealous, moody and out of sorts
whenever he would continue on to establish a one on one relationship with
one of the young girls she had fixed him up with.

	And then there was the odd, not to mention frustrating way she
handled their intimacy, or rather, the lack there of.  While Bitsy was
always grabbing for his hand, even during those times when they weren't
officially dating, she made it quite clear, on numerous occasions, that if
Josh thought that their holding hands was an open invitation for him to
make a move on her, he had another think coming.  On rare occasions, Josh
was not only allowed, but more often than not, encouraged to put his arm
around her, so that the two of them could cuddle and there by, commiserate
with one another, up close and personal like.  But that, and the obligatory
goodnight, closed mouth kiss was the extent of the touchy-feelly shit that
Bitsy would allow.  Everything else was strictly and stringently verboten.

	In other words, from everything Josh could gleam, Bitsy only wanted
a platonic relationship with him, according him in much as she might a twin
bother.

	Trouble was, Josh, though he tried like hell to adjust his thinking
to suit Bitsy's wishes, came to the sad realization that he was hopelessly
in loved her.  Over and over and over again, though he knew how utterly
foolish he was being, the damn near omnipresent and endearing thoughts he
entertained for the mind-enshrined Miss Bitsy MacNamara kept him from
giving any other young the lady he dated the opportunity needed to win his
heart.

	It was during the Christmas holiday break of their senior year in
high school that Bitsy, during a pleasant dinner at the Oats' house, made
the announcement that she had come to a decision, with that decision being:
she was going to become a nun and would therefore, enter the Novitiate of
The Sisters of The Blessed Virgin the following fall.  Though her
announcement put to rest a lot of Josh's unanswered questions, he never the
less took it hard.  Any hope that he had that Bitsy might one day come to
her senses and return the love he stubbornly and tenaciously harbored for
her, had been dashed in one fell swoop.

	Knowing that his relationship with Bitsy would undergo a drastic
and, from his point of view, catastrophic redefining come the next
September, Josh took it upon himself to make the most of the time he had
left with her.  To that end, Josh devoted damn near all of his weekends to
spending as much time as he possible could with her.  They became damn near
inseparable.

	Josh even asked Bitsy if she could once again see her way clear to
doing him the honor of consenting to being his date for his senior prom,
much as she had the previous year when she had graciously acquiesced to
accompanying him to his junior prom.  Informing him that he was a big ninny
as she did so, Bitsy teasingly told Josh that she would agree to be his
date for his school's prom on one condition, with that condition being:
that he had to reciprocate by escorting her to her high school's senior
prom.

	That summer, just a few short weeks prior to perusing her
vocational calling by entering the Senior Novitiate of The Sisters of The
Blessed Virgin with her expressed hope of becoming a teaching sister of
their order, Bitsy shocked the shit of Josh.  While the two of them were
attending a late evening birthday bash of a mutual friend of their's at a
near by community pool that had been rented for the occasion, Bitsy,
impishly dragged a very bemused, bewildered and clearly astonished Josh
Oats into the concealing shadows of the pool's cinder block pump house and
proceeded, in a most brazen and wanton manner, to aggressively assuage
those long desired, long denied, crass and carnal needs of his.

	A short while later, as the two of them wearily struggled back into
their bathing suits, Bitsy, with an endearing kiss to punctuate her
rejoinder, tenderly informed Josh that he was not to read anything into
what had just occurred between them.  Emphatically, so as to not encourage
any sort of false hope, she continued on to inform Josh that she hadn't for
one minute changed her mind about becoming a nun.  Then, by way of an
explanation for having done what she had gone and done, Bitsy tearfully
informed Josh that she had wanted to give him a gift he would always
remember, always cherish and so, she had given him the gift of herself.

	Later, as the two of them sat all off by their lonesomes,
commiserating with one another, Bitsy, clutching Josh's hand in an
impassioned death grip, proceeded on informed him that she knew, without
his ever having to say so, that he loved her and that, in some fashion or
another, he always would.  Reenforcing her oft spoken declaration that they
were soul-mates, tethered in some mystical, marvellous way that bound their
spirits together in the everlasting love of the Almighty, Bitsy, with
another tender and endearing kiss to his tear moistened lips, unknowingly
condemning Josh to a life of unspeakable torment as she did so, informed
him that though she had never said so before, she loved him more than he
would ever know, but that for some inexplicable reason that she preferred
to withhold from him, their love could never be.

	Bitsy, though it clearly pained her to do so, continued on to
inform Josh that she thought that it would be in both their best interest
if they said their last good-byes that night and not see or call one
another again before she left for the novitiate.  Though Josh immediately
regretted his having done so, he agreed to abide by her request without so
much as a verbalized qualm or quibble.

	Their drive home was done in an oppressive, brooding, crypt-like
silence that was broken only by an occasional, gut-wrenching and more times
than not, mutually shared sniffle.  Their last kiss was crammed with
passions calculated to last a lifetime.  Their last embrace - caustic and
compelling compassionate.  Their tears welled up and generously flowed into
one another's as their hearts became one.  Without words they had plight
their troth in the Crucible of God's eternal love and shared the fleeting
bliss of Heaven's promise; knowing intuitively that the next instance would
plunge them into the earth bound hell of a lifetime of severed
companionship.

	Then, with an almost inaudible uttered "I love you, Bitsy." Josh
prolonged his agony as he forlornly tarried on the sidewalk in front of her
house with the devastation of his tear laden eyes locked longing on Bitsy's
front bedroom window.

	That night, Josh Oats became a wraith, a zombie-like
personification of his former self.  He became withdrawn.  Moody.
Introspective.

	Life became a drudgery.  Something to be endured, not enjoyed.

	Eventually Josh managed to find the wherewithal within himself to
be able to put on a false pretense that would enable him to smile, to laugh
and even cut up with his friends when the occasion called for him to do so.
However, in his heart he knew it all nothing more than a shame.  His jest
for life was gone, eradicated by the omnipresent void of his longing.

	Bitsy's letters, though mundane and far from satisfying, helped.
However, as the days became weeks and the weeks in turn stretched into
months and Bitsy's letters arrived with less and less frequency, Josh,
aware that he had to fill the emptiness of his heart with something least
he flat out go crazy, turned, as he always did, to his music and there by,
found the gentle solace and focus of spirit that his life required.  Hour
after hour came and went as he sat in his bedroom, plucking and strumming
on the aluminum rimed longneck banjo that he had scrimped and save to
purchase from the camaraderie of craftsmen who comprised the struggling Ode
Banjo Company of Boulder Colorado.

	Before September was out, Josh found himself as a founding member
of a foursome, endeavoring to preserve and present in an entertaining
fashion the high lonesome sound that was rooted and nurtured in the hollers
and vales of the Southern Appalachians.  Adding the rippling rhythms of his
banjo to the melodic sounds of mountain dulcimer, autoharp and flattop
guitar, their group quickly became one of the mainstays of the locally
based folk scene.

	Things progressed rather rapidly from there.

	A priest that Josh knew from his days as an altar boy chanced to
hear Josh's group play one evening at a nursing home that was located
within in his parish and, liking what he heard, quickly enlisted Josh's
assistance in organizing a group of young parishioners as a nucleus for a
folk mass.  Though Josh wasn't to keen on such innovative church services
himself, unaware of what he was letting himself in for, he set aside his
misgivings and graciously complied with Father Dan's wishes.  Three weeks
later, he found himself doing double duty.  Finish up with the nine o'clock
mass at Father Dan's church, Josh had to quickly pack up his banjo and
newly acquired small bodied Ephiphone 12-string and haul ass, so that he
arrived at St. Catherines in time to participate in their eleven thirty
folk services.

	Shortly thereafter, an Episcopal church that was located clear
across town called and asked Josh if he could see his way clear to doing
for them what he had done for the Catholics.  The Lutherans, not to be out
done, did likewise, as did a Baptist Youth Group and several
nondenominational Christian Churches as well.

	A librarian friend of his mother's, who was responsible for
coordinating children activities at a nearby neighbor branch of the public
library where she was gainfully employed, inquired as to whether or not
Mrs. Oats might be able to persuade her son to put together a children
program of traditional and contemporary folk music to be presented on an up
coming Saturday morning.  Josh said that he'd be delighted to give it a go
and, though he wasn't sure how his selection of crusty old and moldy
over-sung standards and nonsense songs would be received by a group of
precocious four, five and six year olds, was surprise as to just how well
his performance went over.  Two weeks later - another library.  Another
Saturday morning filled with the gleeful sounds of children raising their
voice in song.

	Within the month, Josh found that his Saturday mornings were booked
up solid with requests for similar library hosted presentations.

	Sunday evenings, usually found Josh frequenting a local up scale
coffeehouse to participated in their weekly open-mikes.  Sometimes he would
do so with members of his group, sometimes with one or another of his
folksinger friends, but more times than not, all on his own.  While his
first love was traditional folk music such as John Henry and Jimmy Crack
Corn, he would indulge his other interest by performing singer-songwriter
material the likes of Paxton, Ochs and Anderson.

	The open-mikes presented Josh with yet other avenue for his music.
Soon, he was being asked to perform some of the topical material he was
becoming known for at various activist and anti-war rallies that were, at
the time, gaining in popularity.

	There went most of his Saturday and Sunday afternoons.

	The open-mike sessions also expanded Josh's number of friend's
within the local folk community itself.  Soon, these new found folk artist
friends of his were actually calling Josh out the audience; telling him to
go get his banjo and join them on stage so that he could accompany them on
a couple of their songs.

	How Josh found time to compose his own songs with all that other
stuff going on, is anybody's guess, but manage he did.  Furthermore,
shocking the shit out of Josh in the process, those handcrafted songs of
his were extremely well received whenever he saw fit to include one in his
sets.  As time went on, due to the overwhelming and unrelenting requests
that he do so, the number of his own songs contained in a set eventually
began to out number those written by other better known singer-songwriters.
And, as one might expect, the one most often requested he sing, was a
poignant song of unrequited and endearing love entitled 'Bitsy's Song'.

	As time went on, others in the area began to perform many of his
songs, causing a reporter who covered the music beat for the locally weekly
published underground newspaper to proclaim Josh Oats to be the area's
folksinger's folksinger.  Josh though, never let any of the acclaim he got
go to his head.  Fact is: he was the first to admit that their were far
better singers and much more talented musicians around than he was.  If he
admitted to having any talent at all, that talent was to pick the right
songs for the right occasions.

	Hell!  Even when a fledgling, grass-roots recording outfit
approached Josh with the idea of making a record of some of the songs he
had penned himself, he readily agreed on the condition that the record
would be made with a whole bunch of friends and fellow folksingers taking
the lead on one or another of his songs.  Out of the fourteen tracks
contained on the LP, while Josh did indeed function as one of the featured
musicians on each and every one of them, and participated as a member of
the chorus in a good many of them, he was only featured twice: once on a
solo banjo instrumental and a second time, singing the song he was quickly
becoming best known for, with that song being none other than the
impassioned 'Bitsy's Song'.

	As one might expect, Josh met a lot of very nice, very attractive,
and at times kooky and spaced-out young ladies who made it perfectly clear
to him that they wouldn't mind going out with him.  Trouble was, most of
the girls he dated at the time found that they soon tired of accompanying
him to his shows.  The first time was neat.  Generally, the girls Josh
dated got a charge out of being with the man of hour.  However, as neat as
it was at first, dating a performer wasn't anything like they thought it
would be.

	Fact is: dating a performer was down right boring.  Out of
necessity, Josh had to let his dates fend for themselves, all off by their
lonesomes while he was engaged elsewhere: tuning his various instruments;
arranging his sets; doing sound checks; checking in with the MC and all
that other razzmatazz that a performer has to attend to in order to insure
that their performance is up to snuff and that they are doing right by the
audience.

	In other words, Josh, adopting the no guts no glory approach,
roguishly dated a whole shit load of girls over that eighteen month period
following immediately in the wake of Bitsy's leave-taking.  Sometimes, he
would even get lucky and get himself laid in the process.

	And then, Nineteen Sixty Seven hit and in the matter of a few
months, Josh's life was hit with a triple whammy.

	It all started off on the Feast of the Epiphany when Kathy, a very
nice young girl who he was just beginning to think he might one day fall in
love with, dumped him for a folksinger friends of his.  Shortly thereafter,
it was the business at the community college and then, just when Josh
thought that he had gotten his life back on the right track by taking the
bull by the horns and enlisting in the United States Navy in hopes of
qualifying for the battery of electronic schools the recruiter had enticed
him with, the tragic and unforeseen death of his father rocked his life in
ways he never though possible.

	Only a few close friends of his mother's and a smattering of family
members were able to attend the first scheduled afternoon viewing of his
father.  Josh, telling himself that he had to be strong for his mother,
managed to somehow hold up rather well, even though he was forced to
recounted, over and over and over again, in gory, tedious, nerve wracking
detail, how he had endeavored to resuscitate his father during the damn
near interminable wait for the paramedics to arrive.

	That evening, shortly after returning to the funeral home from a
two hour dinner break at a near by restaurant, knowing that he was leaving
his mother in the caring and concerned hands of a few of her closest
neighborhood friends, Josh graciously excused himself from the circle of
the conversation that was taking place and, with hopes of doing so before
any sort of a crowd began to arrive and so prevent him from what he had in
mind, approached his father's casket and there, attempted to reconcile
himself to the loss of a man who meant more to him than life itself.  As a
single tear, a tear that was selfishly shed for both his and his mother's
loss, rather than for the gentle, even tempered man who's mortal remains
lay stretched out in the casket before him, a hand, small and graceful,
tenderly reached over and gently, but none the less firmly, entwined Josh's
hand within it's comforting and ever so familiar grasp.  With a spirit
buoyed by the consoling knowledge of her nearness, Josh heard Bitsy softly
and emphatically intone, "I'm so, so sorry, Josh!  I came as soon as I
heard..."

	"Thank you, Bitsy!  I can't begin to tell how much it means to me
that you're here!  And you know that my mom will appreciate your being here
as well!  I mean, you know how she feels about you!"

	"Yes, Josh... I most certainly do!"

	From that point on, Bitsy never once left Josh's side.  She never
let his hand go, save for the few occasions where her frayed emotions got
the best of her and she turned and embraced Josh for all she was worth,
drawing on his strength as he had on hers!

	She was there for him.  Willing him her strength.  Supporting him
with her empathy.  Consoling him with her nearness.  Sharing each and every
nuance of his grief.

	Later, as Josh, playing the part of the dutifully son, helped his
mother slip into her coat prior to their departing the funeral home for
night, Mrs. Oats proceeded on to inform him that during the brief period of
time he had been in the men's room, she had had a private conversation with
that wayward 'adopted' daughter of hers and the two of them had arrived at
a mutual decision.  Instead of dropping Bitsy off at her parent's house on
their way home the way Josh had at first presumed they would, Bitsy would
be going back to their house with them.  While she could have always stayed
at her parents' house, Josh's mom, without going into a lengthy explanation
as to why she had done so, had asked Bitsy if she could see her way clear
to spending the next couple of days at their house with them.  Wanting
nothing more than to do just that, Bitsy had readily agreed, saying as she
did so that she would be both honored and delighted to be their guest.

	Arriving home, the three of them, upon shedding their coats,
proceeded into the kitchen and, over a fresh brewed pot of tea that
Mrs. Oats quickly set about preparing for the there of them, began to
commiserate with one another.  Then, having discussed a whole kit and
caboodle of fond memories revolving around Josh's dad, his mother turned
the conversation to Bitsy, as she proceeded on to shock the shit out of her
son by clearly demonstrating the fact that she had consciously neglected to
inform him about something that she knew he would have deemed of the utmost
importance.

	"So Bitsy, how about telling us what you've been up to since you
left the novitiate last spring."

	'Last spring!', Josh reeled as his mind registered the fact that
Bitsy had given up the idea of becoming a nun, but hadn't seen fit to get
in touch with him and tell him that she had made the decision to return to
secular life.

	"Well Aunt Mary, as my mother has no doubt already told you, I came
home for about week or so; got myself a job as a waitress and moved in with
a couple of friends of mine who have, or I should have said, had an
apartment downtown.

	With a tone that clearly conveyed a poorly vailed sense of
indignation, Josh inquired, "You mean to tell me, you've been in town for -
what!  Nine months now!  And you never thought to get in touch with me!

	"How come?" a disgruntled Josh tersely demanded an accounting.

	Reaching over, Bitsy, in an effort on her part to placate him
somewhat, lovingly grasp his hand in hers, saying as she did so, "First
off, Josh, you've got to understand that I was only in town for about a
month and a half when I, along with a couple of hippy friends of mine,
moved to this real neat artist commune way out in Allegany County, just
down the road from the quaint little town of Lonaconing."

	"Okay." Josh began.  "I understand the point about how you weren't
in town long.  However, that still doesn't explain why you didn't try and
get in touch with me.  You know, to at least let me know what in the world
was going on!"

	"Well!" Mary Oats said as she pushed her chair back from the table
and began to get to her feet.  "I see that the two of have some things to
talk over.  So, since it's going to be another busy day for me tomorrow,
what with me and my having to content with those two over-wrought,
insincere, crocodile-tear shedding sisters of your father's, I really think
I ought to do myself a favor by heading upstairs and trying to get a little
sleep.

	"Josh!  Tell you what!  Since the guest room is a mess right now,
why don't you let Bitsy sleep in your bed and you sleep down here on the
sofa tonight.  Alright?"

	Bitsy, keeping a firm grip on Josh's hand all the while, countered
Mrs. Oats' suggestion by saying that the sofa would suit her just fine and
that the very last thing she wanted to do was to put either one of them
out.  Mrs. Oats was having none of it and so, informed Bitsy in no
uncertain terms that her son would be just fine sleeping on the sofa for a
night or two and that she would be very upset if Bitsy said another blessed
thing about the sleeping arrangements she had prescribed.

	As expected, Bitsy, aware that further arguments would prove
futile, graciously acquiesced to Mrs. Oats' wishes.

	By unspoken accord, both Bitsy and Josh refrained from getting into
it until they heard his mother's bedroom door close.

	"Okay, Bits!" Josh said sternly.  "What gives?"

	"Josh!" she pleaded as reached over and took his other hand in
hers.  "Do we really have to do this now?

	"I mean, haven't you already got enough on your plate, what with
your father's death and all..."

	"I mean, while I realize that I owe you an explanation for what
I've done... and I fully intend on giving you one... do we really have get
into this tonight?  I mean, can't we wait until things have settled down
for you a little bit?

	"No!" Josh's rebuttal was emphatic..  "I'm not going to let you
walk out of my life again and not know the reason why!"

	"Believe me, Josh!  I'm not going anywhere!

	"I know you'll never going to believe me - you big, hard headed
lummox you!  But, I love you!  More then you'll ever know or understand!"

	"Hell!  I don't even understand it myself, given some of these
damnable predilections of mine, but the one thing I do know is that I do
love you!  And I never - Ever! - want to be separated from you again!

	"As selfish as it is for me to say this: I now realize just how
much I need you in my life!

	"I mean, I knew as soon as I entered the room where your father was
laid out and caught sight of you standing up there, all by your lonesome,
forlornly gazing down at your father's casket, that I had made a terrible,
terrible mistake!

	"You probably aren't going believe this, but I have missed you more
than you will ever, ever know, Josh!"

	"I thought I was being kind!  I thought I was doing the right
thing!

	"I now know I was wrong!  And I'm so, so sorry I did what I did!
It was a mistake!  A mistake that whether you want to believe this or not,
I have paid dearly for!

	"But as wrong-headed as I was, at the time, I thought that I was
doing the right thing!

	"Look!  I know you took it hard when I left to become a nun!

	"But I also knew that you would eventually face the fact that you
had your own life to live and that you'd best get on with it!

	"And you did!  You poured your life into your music and that was
great!

	"I mean, what you went on to achieve never fails to amaze and
astound me!

	"Oh!  And while I'm thinking about it, I have to tell you: I
absolute adorn 'Bitsy's Song'!  And I end up crying every time I hear it!
You know, 'cause I actually find myself hating that selfish little bitch
for doing what she did to you!"

	"Bits!" Josh spoke up, registering his complaint!  "I never wrote
that song to hurt you!  I only wrote it out of my love for you!"

	"I know you did, Josh!  And believe me, you have paid me the
greatest compliment that one person could ever pay another when you wrote
that simply fantastic song for me!  And believe me, it's an honor I don't
deserve...

	"But anyhow, getting back to why I though it necessary to do what I
did, I've got to tell you something very personal about myself that it's a
given you aren't going to like hearing!  Not in the least little bit!

	"Josh!  You like looking all those beautiful and sexy girls in
Playboy, don't you?"

	"Yeah..." Josh replied with some hesitancy.  "So?"

	"Well, though it took me a whole hell of a lot of soul searching on
my part to finally come out admit it to myself, the sad fact of the matter
is: so do I!  And, though it pains me to say this: I like looking at them
pretty much the same way that you do!"

	"Bits!  Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

	"If you think that I'm saying that I'm a lesbian at heart, then
yes!  I'm saying exactly what you think I'm saying!"

	"But," Josh stammered, "you and I made love!".

	"Yes!  Yes, we did!  And it was absolutely wonderful!  But, as
wonderful as it was, I've to to tell you that it was the hardest damn thing
I ever done!

	"I mean, you don't know how hard it was for me to work up the
gumption to actually being able to do it!

	"Trouble is: while I am hopelessly attracted to women!  You know,
in a physically sense!  I am just as hopelessly in love with you!

	"In other words, damned if I'm not stuck right between that rock
and hard place that you're always hearing about!  And to make matters worse
- Damn it all to hell and back! - if you aren't stuck right there alongside
of me!

	"You however, have a choice in the matter!  I, unfortunately, do
not!"

	"I do?" Josh was incredulous.

	"Yes, you do!  You can always elect to cut your loses and get on
with your life!"

	"Yeah, right!  As if I could do something like that!"

	Bitsy cut Josh to the quick as she vehemently countered, "You
almost did with Kathy!"

	Taken aback, Josh fumed, "How hell do you ever find out about
Kathy?"

	With a knowing smile beaming upon her face, Bitsy impishly
replied. "Oh, let's just say that a little birdie has been keeping me
abreast as to what's going on in your life."

	"And just who might that little birdie be?" Josh demanded in a
righteous huff.

	"Someone who cares about you as much as I do."

	Josh ponder that one for a second and then shot back, "You mean to
tell me that you been in contact with my mother?"

	"Bingo!

	"I've been calling here at least once a week just to check in and
see how your doing."

	"And you're saying that my mother told you about Kathy?"

	"She sure did!"

	"And just what in the hell did she tell you about me and Kathy?"

	"Basically, that the two of you got along fairly well.  Which, she
said was a positive sign.  But, that she really didn't think it would ever
work out between the two of you."

	"What else did she tell you?"

	"Practically everything.

	"Well I'll be!  My mom!  The snitch!

	"Does she know?"

	"If you mean about me and my being a lesbian, the answer is: yes!
She knows everything!

	"In fact, she was the first person that I actually confided in!  I
mean, I told your mom months before I ever got up the never to tell my own
mother!

	"I don't know if you are either aware or appreciative of this Josh,
but make no never mind about it!  Your mother's a saint if ever there was
one!"

	"Believe me, Bitsy!  I'm well aware of the that!  When it comes to
parents, I gotta say: God did right by me!  I couldn't have asked for
better!"

	With a tear welling up in his right eye, Josh, though it took all
he had to do so, continued on to say, "I just wish I had told my father how
much he meant to me when I had the chance!"

	"Don't worry, Josh!  Trust me!  He knows..."

	"I sure as hell hope you're right about that, because you can't
believe how much I'm already beginning to miss him!"

	It was to much for Bitsy to just sit there, helplessly watching as
Josh began to unburden himself of all those pent up emotions of his and so,
in a spontaneous, empathic effort to give him what succor she could, she
rose up out the kitchen chair she had been occupying and in so doing, drew
him upwards along with her and into the compassionate and consoling embrace
of the truest of heart-bound friends.

	Amid the wealth of tears that were freely flowing down his cheeks,
Josh weekly managed to whimper, "I don't know <sniffle> if I can take
anymore, Bits!  A year and a half ago <sniffle> I lost you!  Yesterday,
<sniffle> I lost my father... <sniffle, sniffle>"

	Grasping Josh by his upper arms, Bitsy, marshalling every ounce of
her strength, angrily thrust him rearwards and, with a raw vehemence that
seemed unsuited to the situation, harshly snapped, "I'll grant you that you
lost your father, Josh!  And there's absolutely nothing that you or I or
anyone can do about that!  But, let's get something straight here, buster!
You haven't lost me!  I'm right here!  And, I'm not going anywhere!

	"I'll admit it!  I did something stupid!  I though that if I went
away to became a nun you might be able to forget about me and get on with
your life!

	"And, to some degree, you managed to do just that!

	"Trouble was, I now realize that I wasn't being fair to either one
of us, because - God help me! - though I tried like hell to get over you, I
couldn't!

	"You couldn't?"

	"No!" there was a sense of frustration clearly conveyed in that
explosive and overwrought 'no' of Bitsy's.  "I tried!  I really, truly did!
But, no matter what I did or didn't do, I couldn't get you out of my mind!
I couldn't stop feeling about you the way I do!

	"And do you want to know why I can't?" Bitsy snapped angrily.

	"You, Mr. Joshua Oats, are just to damn good be true!  And you
truly deserve someone who can give you what you want!

	"Trouble is, as I've told you so many times before, there's no
getting around the fact you and I are soulmates, bound to one another in
some inexplicable way that I can't even begin to fathom!"

	"So, tell me Bits!  Where does that leave the two of us?"

	"I don't know!  I honestly don't know!  And, I should add: there's
no way in hell we are going to figure that one out tonight!  So, give me a
break!  Let's not try!  Alright?"

	"However, I do know one thing!  Neither one us is ever going to be
happy unless we're together!  Somehow!  Someway!  Agreed?"

	"Agreed!" Josh, with the hint of a sniffle, replied.

	"Come on kiddo!  As I recall, there's a perfectly good sofa in your
living room and I think that a good snuggle right now would do the two of
us a world of good!"

	A few minutes later, as Josh lay with his head nestled in the
comfort of Bitsy's lap, she resumed the conversation by saying, "You know
something?  I tend to think that my dad's right!  God's really does have a
sense of humor!  Trouble is: sometimes it's a pretty warped one!

	"I mean, look at the two of us!  There's no getting around the fact
that we're perfect for one another; save that He made you a heterosexual;
were as, He made me a homosexual!

	"Even worse, I'll be damned if He didn't give us the same taste in
women!"

	Bitsy remark must had hit a raw nerve, for Josh heard himself
heatedly ask, "And just how in the hell can you say that?"

	"Because, I've seen some of the girls you've dated over the last
year or so and let me tell you: as far as I'm concerned, your taste in
women is impeccable!

	"And, Kathy!  She was as cute as a button!"

	"Wait a second!

	"What do you mean when you say that you've seen some of the girls
I've dated?

	"How could you have seen them?  I mean, didn't you tell me you were
living up in an artist commune all the way out in Allegany County?

	"Yes, I did.  However, I got back here as often as I could and when
I did, I'd check in with your mon to find out where you were playing.

	"You mean to tell me that you actually came to a couple of my
shows?"

	"Oh, I came to a lot more than just a couple!"

	"If that's so, how come I never saw you?"

	"Because, I took every precaution to ensure you didn't see me!

	"You know, like I went so far as to go out and by this ratty old
wig that I'd wear in order to help disguise myself.  Then, I'd sneak in to
your performance late; sit in the back somewhere and as soon as your last
set was over, while you were busy packing up your instruments, I, along
with whichever friend or friends I had coerced into accompanying me, would
hightail it out of there before you ever became the wiser!

	Several minutes later, Josh, though he wasn't at all sure he really
wanted to hear the answer, awkwardly endeavored to ask, "Bits!  Look!  You
don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but did you
ever... a... a... you know, with another woman?"

	Knowing fully well where Josh was going with his poor stated
inquiry of his, Bitsy, with a gentle kiss to his forehead as a tender
prelude to her remarks, replied, "The answer to your question is: yes, on
several occasions, with several different girls, I did."

	"Did you enjoy it?" Josh couldn't believe he had actually asked the
question.

	"Yes!  In a physically sense, I enjoyed it immensely.

	"However, though I did enjoy it, there was always something lacking
that left me feeling sort of icky and empty afterwards.

	"And do you know what that something was?"

	Then, after a lingering moment of contemplative silence, Bitsy,
with a self-targeted smirk, proceeded on to answer own her question, "That
something was you!"

	Taken aback by Bitsy's impassioned revelation, Josh quizzically
offered comment, "While I can't say that I'm not both please and flattered
to hear you say that, it doesn't make a lick of sense!"

	"I know it doesn't!  Nothing makes sense!

	"I just wish..."

	"Wish what?" Josh sympathetically urged.

	"That things were different!  You know, so that you and I could be
together the way I truly believe God intended us to be!"

	"That would be nice...

	"But, right now, I'll take what I can get and to hell with the
consequences!

	"I love you!  I love you so much it hurts!

	"And, lesbian or not, it's like I told you earlier: there's no way
in hell I'm going to let you go now that I've found you again!"

	"I'm glad to here that.  Because, I have no intentions of going
anywhere!  Not today!  Not tomorrow!  Not next week!  Not the week after!

	"For better or worse, though I think the two of us might well be
exchanging one form of hell on earth for another, I do believe that you're
stuck with me, Mr. Joshua Everett Oats!" Bitsy declared as her arms reached
down and enveloped him into the chaste embrace of tortured lover.


* * *


	Bitsy MacNamara proved true to her words.  She remained a guest at
the Oats house for the next few days, ostensible to help Josh and his
mother deal with their loss.  Then, royally pissing off more than a few
close family members in the process, Mrs. Oats' insisted that Bitsy ride in
limousine with them to the cemetery services, saying in a demonstrative
manner that Josh's father thought of her as the daughter he never had and
so, would have wanted Bitsy to be accorded as such.  On their way back to
the funeral home and the car they had left parked there, Josh's mom, having
caught the gist of what was going on between her son and 'adopted'
daughter, proceeded on to ask Bitsy if she might be able to see her way
clear to spending another week with them.  Bitsy, feeling the need to be
with the Oats as much as the Oats felt the need for her to be with the two
of them, readily agreed.

	One week became two and two weeks became three.  Then, as three
weeks was on the verge of spilling over into a fourth, Mrs. Oats made the
official announcement over dinner one evening.  Using the excuse that Josh
would eventually be leaving for his tour of duty in the Navy, Mrs. Oats,
not wishing to live alone, had prevailed on Bitsy to move into their guest
room on a permanent bases and Bitsy, on her part, had graciously accepted.

	Bitsy had her own announcement to make.  She was going to be a
Playboy Bunny.

	Earlier that week, as Bitsy went on to explain, she had seen an ad
in the morning paper that stated that a brand new Playboy Club would soon
be opening its' doors right in the heart of the downtown business area and
that they would be holding open auditions for young women who wished to
become Bunnies all that week.  Bitsy, without confiding in Josh as to what
she had in mind, went down the next day; auditioned and was duly accepted
and so, announced that she would begin Bunny School the following Monday.

	Later that evening, while Mrs. Oats was upstairs taking a bath,
Josh sought clarification as he asked, "Bits, are you sure this Bunny thing
is going to be your cup of tea?  I mean, are you sure you're going to like
wearing that skimpy costume?"

	Countering, Bitsy coyly responded, "Maybe it's you, who isn't all
that thrilled with the prospect of me and my being decked out in a sexy
Playboy Bunny outfit!

	"Well..." Josh founded himself forced to admit, "You might just
have a point there...

	"I mean, it pretty much goes without saying that I'm not all that
thrilled thinking about you and your being ogled by a whole lot of dirty
old men like you know, without the shadow of a doubt, that you're going to
be as a Bunny..."

	"So, I take it that you're saying that you might be just a wee bit
jealous?"

	"Yeah, I guess maybe I am at that."

	"Good!  I'm glad!  It shows you really care!

	"But, fear not!  You know as well as I do that you are the one and
only man I want in my life!  Now, or in the future!

	"Besides, save for being gawked at all the time, the Playboy Club
is probably the safest place I could possible work!

	"You see, not only to they have a non-fraternization policy that's
strictly enforced, but they also have a look but don't touch policy.  If
some over inebriated smuck tries to lay so much as a hand on me, he'll be
politely given a warning.  And should he neglect to heed that warning, and
try something again, he'll be hustled out the door so fast he won't know
what in the hell happened!"

	"Okay!  I understand!  You won't have to worry about being
manhandled if you become a Playboy Bunny!  That's good!  I kind of like
that aspect!

	"But tell me something, Bits!  Doesn't becoming a Playboy Bunny go
against that hippy, anti-establishment credo of yours?"

	"Alright, already!  I give!  You've got me on that one!  You're
right!  My becoming a Bunny does indeed go against that so called hippy
credo of mine!

	"However, since I'm not about to stay here in your mother's house
without contributing my fair share, I need a job!  And since about the only
job experience I have is as a waitress, I just figured that going the Bunny
route might be a lot of fun, especially so with me and these damnable
lesbian proclivities of mine!

	"Think about it!  While all those middle age men will be ogling me,
I'll be discreetly ogling all the scantily clad girls I'll be working with!
You know, as in I'll be like that proverbial fox in sheep's clothing that
you're always hearing about!"

	As twinge of paranoia got the best him, Josh, knowing that he was
being utterly foolish, found himself asking a question he long cautioned
himself against asking, "Bits!  Am I to take it that you are still actively
pursuing a lesbian relationship?"

	"No, Josh!  I'm not!

	"Haven't we been all over this before?" a clearly disgruntled Bitsy
snapped harshly.

	"Look!  I don't want to have to keep constantly reassuring you!  So
let's get something straight!  Right here!  Right now!

	"As illogically and idiotic as it is: I love you!  Fact is: I love
you more today than I did yesterday and most likely, as trite and hackneyed
as it surely is going to sound, slightly less than I probably will
tomorrow!

	"True!  I'm a lesbian!  God knows why, but I am!

	"Meaning: I find myself sexually attracted to women, much the same
way you are!

	"Trouble is: while I would like nothing more than to engage in sex
with another woman, I also know that the sexual aspect of a relationship
alone isn't enough to sustain me!  I need something a whole lot more than
just sex!

	"You see, it's like I keep telling you!  You and I have something
special!  Something extremely unique!  And I for one am not willing to
jeopardize whatever it is we have just to indulge these damnable sexual
proclivities of mine!

	"I just wish..."

	"Wish what?" Josh prompted.

	"I just wish that things were different!"

	"So do I, Bits!  So do I..."

	"Josh!" Bitsy said taking both of his hands in hers, "What do I
have to do to convince you that I'm not going anywhere?  Do I have to marry
you?"

	"You mean that you'd actually marry me?"

	"Yes!  Of course I would!  If, that is, that's what it'll take to
convince you of my sincerity, then yes!  I marry you!

	I mean, even though I tend to think that we'd both be off our
rockers to do so at this juncture, if that's what it'll take to convince
you that I mean exactly what I say, you'd best believe I'll marry you!  In
a heart beat!  I'll be your wife!  And, though it'll tax me to no end, I'll
share your bed!  Hell, Josh!  I'll even bear your children, if that's what
you really want!"

	"You would actually do that?"

	"Of course I would, you ninny!

	"I mean, as far as I'm concerned, save for the business about the
two of us sharing the same bed, you and I are, for all practical purposes,
married already!"

	"In some respects, I tend to feel pretty much the same way you do,
Bits!  And I'm really sorry that I'm so insecure about all of this!

	"It's just that I don't want to lose you!"

	"Josh!  For the last time!  You aren't going to lose me!  I'm right
here and there's no way in hell that I'm going anywhere!

	"So get that through that thick skull of yours!  Okay!

	"Alright!  I'll try..."

	"So, tell me!  What do you want to do?  I mean, do we get married
now or what?"

	"As much as I really want us to, the answer to your question is:
no!  I'm not going to allow this paranoia of mine coerce you into doing
something like that!  You know, because it wouldn't be fair!  It wouldn't
be right..."

	"And that, in a nut shell, is exactly why I love you the way I do,
Josh!  Damn it all to hell and back!

	"So, tell you what!  Why don't the two of us make a pact!  Right
here!  Right now!

	"Once you get... shall we say... a year or two of this Navy
business of yours under your belt and you find that you still feel the same
way about me as you do now, I will not only consent to becoming your wife,
to have and to hold, till death do us part and all that other razzmatazz
that's involved in getting hitched, but I further promise you that I will
do everything I can and then some, both in and out of the bedroom I might
add, to fulfill my part of the bargain!

	"In other words, I promise you that I will be the best wife you
could ever have!  Alright?"

	"Are you sure about this, Bits?

	"I mean, the last thing I want to do is to force you into doing
something that you're not comfortable with!"

	"I know that!  I know you only want what's best for me!  But
believe me!  I now know - For a certainty! - that being with you is what's
best for me!


* * *


	The following Monday morning, while Bitsy was off attending her
first day at Bunny School, Josh's Navy recruiter called and proceeded on to
inform him to be on the lookout, due to the fact that he would be receiving
his discharge papers within the next week or so.  Perplexed as to what was
going on, Josh proceeded on to ask the chief petty officer for an
explanation and was dutifully informed that when his enlistment papers were
being processed, the waiver pertaining to his pneumothroxa was reexamined
and promptly rejected; mandating the issuing of a Convenience of the
Government classification of discharge.

	In other words, as the Navy recruiter so bluntly put it, the Navy
saw him as damaged goods and therefore a liability and so, did not require
his services.

	Trouble was: while the United States Navy didn't want Josh, the
United Sates Army did.

	A month to the day after receiving his discharge papers from the
Navy, damn if Josh didn't get his draft notice along with an accompanying
letter that stated rather emphatically that while the U.S. Army was well
aware of his prior medical condition, the very same medical condition that
had excluded him from naval service, they were being more magnanimous about
the whole affair and because they were, they would be more than happy to
accept him into their ranks without the unnecessary need for him to undergo
another pre-induction physical in order to qualify.

	Needless to say, Josh wasn't the least little bit thrilled with the
notion of being drafted.  Everyone he knew who had been, had ended up in
Vietnam as so much cannon fodder.

	First off, Josh deemed the war in South East Asia to be a
constitutionally illegal one.  Secondly, he believed the war to be an
immoral one as well.

	The way he saw it, it didn't make a rat's ass which side eventually
won the war, the lives of people of Vietnam would not substantially change.
They would live and die as they always had, in squalor, preyed upon by
which ever form of governmental ideology that finally succeeded in gaining
the political leverage to hold sway over their downtrodden existence.

	The people that Josh felt the greatest amount of sorrow for were
the poor Vietnamese farmers, who most likely wanting nothing more than to
get that brunt out shell of an APC (Armored Personnel Carrier) or the
charred, twisted wreckage of a Huey gunship out of their rice paddy.

	Win or lose in Vietnam, Josh realized that the county he loved, the
county he called home, was beginning to internally hemorrhage over its'
ever escalating participation in a war that the Powers That Be in
Washington were failing miserable to gain and, more to the point, retain
support for conducting.  An ever increasing number of body bags proved to
be an extremely bad marketing device to sell the war to the American
people.

	The national conscious, which had been raised and honed to raw an
bitter edge during the long and ugly struggle to eradicate the national
shame of legally sanctioned civil injustice to the darker skinned citizens
of the United States, began to rail against the war.  Fathers, once proud
to have their sons don uniforms in serve their county as they themselves
had done when called to arms in other worthier causes, began to slowly
realize that as tragic as the plight of the South Vietnamese people was,
the death or maiming of their sons wasn't going to change a single blessed
thing over there.

	Kiddingly, Josh, when ever asked, offered two different solutions
to bring about an end to the War in Vietnam.  First, if the United States
truly wanted to help the people of South Vietnam, the government could
always offer them statehood.  Or, if the government in Washington didn't
wish to go that route, they could always put their money were their mouth
was; purchase the land from the Vietnamese people; move every last single
one of them to United States and them turn South Vietnam into Aberdeen
Proving Grounds West.  In other words, turn the former county into one
large nuclear warhead testing area.

	To put it bluntly, Josh was vehemently opposed to the United States
aggressive military participation in the embattled and bitter affairs of
South Vietnam.  As far as Josh was concerned, the best way for the United
States to fight the spread of communism was to clearly demonstrate to the
rest of the world that a capitalist society, based on the principles as set
out first in the Declaration of Independence and later echoed in the
Articles and Amendments of the Constitution, principles that clearly
declare that each and every individual had certain unalienable Rights, that
among those are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness, was the finest
form of government that humankind could fashion.

	Trouble was, as Josh was quick to point out whenever he debated the
matter, in order for the United States to become that shinning example for
the rest of the peoples of the world to emulate, America had best get its'
own house in order first and make every conceivable effort to live up to
the promise that those cherished documents both proclaimed and mandated.

	However, unlike most of his activist buddies and anti-war friends,
Josh did not transfer his distaste for his government's policies in Vietnam
to the men and women in uniform who were the unwilling instrument of what
he truly believed to be the misguided polices of the Johonson's White
House.  Wisely, as Josh saw it, the founding fathers had purposely and
prudently place the country's military might under the command of its'
foremost civilian authority, with that civilian authority residing in none
other than the Office of President of the United States.  If the President
saw fit to employ those military assets of his as part of his policies
unwisely, wrongheadedly or even illegally, though the trails held at
Nuremberg strongly suggested otherwise, Josh felt that he could no more
blame the members of the military then he could the man in the moon.

	Josh felt that the best way to honor the men and women who served
in Vietnam was to bring them home as expediently as possible.  And because
he did, he truly believed that the most patriotic thing he could do under
the circumstances, was to aggressively protest his country's involvement in
a war that he truly believe it had no business being involved in the first
place.

	However, Josh also believe that he owed his country his service and
though it had taken a hell of a lot of soul-searching on his part, Josh had
reasoned that if he had to go to Vietnam, he would set his personal
feelings for his country's wrong-headed polices aside and do his duty to
the best of his abilities.  Once there, political concerns went out the
window.  The war boiled down to nothing more than an us against them kind
of bloody struggle for survival.  Anyone helping in that struggle was a
friend.  Anyone who was not, was an enemy, an enemy that had to be
eliminated with as much dispatch as necessary.

	Josh rightly or wrongly had begun to ascribe to the sarcastic
paraphrasing of a biblical verse that was gaining in prominence at the
time. "Yea, thou I walk through the Valley of death, I shall fear no evil!
For I fully intent on being the meanest son of a bitch in the valley!"

	Josh had long before reconciled himself to the fact that if he ever
ended up in Vietnam, he wouldn't be fighting the good fight for love of
duty, honor and country.  He'd be fighting to secure his own survival and
the survival of the guys in his squad, of the guys in his platoon, of the
guys his company, of the guys that were wearing the very same uniform that
he was.

	It was just that simple.  In war, you fought for your friends, the
guys you knew, hoping that they were fighting just as vigorously for you as
you were for them.

	Though he rather not have to go to Vietnam, Josh knew that when
push came to shove, he would.  Trouble was, he really didn't want to be
sent there as an inadequately trained draftee.  If he had to go, he wanted
as many cards as he could manage stacked in his favor.  Keenly aware of the
fact that the devil you knew was far better than the devil you didn't, Josh
dearly wanted to be part of a well trained unit, one in which he knew both
the assets and liabilities of the men around him and not as some green
replacement out on his first seek and destroy with a bunch of unknown
quantities that didn't know him from Adam and therefore, wouldn't give a
crap about how he - a total stranger and practical nonentity - faired.

	Friends, Josh knew, had a tendency to extend the extra effort.
Strangers, however, did not.  And sometimes, especially when engaged in the
heat of combat, that extra effort could be the difference between life and
death.

	Understandable, Josh's draft notice had him royally pissed off, so
pissed off in fact that he hardly ate any of the lunch his mother had
prepared for him.  Feeling that he was being made the brunt of one of
Fate's cruel and twisted jokes, Josh, prompted by an off-handed suggestion
that his equably upset mother had made over lunch, he, with draft notice in
hand, climbed in his VW micro-bus and drove over to have a little confab
with chief petty office that had served as his Navy recruiter just to see
if there was anything that could be done to circumvent his being drafted
into the army.

	The CPO completely understood Josh's qualms and because he did, he
assured Josh that he would see what he could do.

	Trouble was, as his Navy recruiter regrettable informed him the
next day over the phone, the Navy could do nothing in lieu of Josh's
discharge and because the Navy could do nothing in the way of offering a
re-enlistment, neither could the Marines, since they fell under the
auspicious of the Department of the Navy as well.  Then, having said that,
the CPO proceeded on to informed Josh that he had gone the extra mile in
Josh's behest and so, had talked over Josh's situation with both the Air
Force and Army recruiters that occupied offices just down the hall from
his.

	The Air Force recruitment sergeant, while not be the least bit
optimistic, had been a pretty good joe and had done little checking for his
Navy friend.  However, basically what it all came down to was: if the Navy
didn't want to mess around with Josh, neither did the Air Force.

	According to Chief Petty Office Baker, the Army recruiter was not
only a real schmuck, but a lazy assed bastard to boot.  Instead of taking
the time to check and see if Josh could fiend off the draft notice by
enlisting in the Army so that he might be able to qualify for some sort of
technically oriented schooling, the master sergeant gruffly replied that
since it was no skin off his nose, Josh would be better off serving the two
years of active duty that draftees usually served instead of the additional
year of active duty that enlistees incurred to cover their MOS related
schooling.

	Suggesting that Josh try the Coast Guard, the National Guard and
the Army Reserve and, in that order, Chief Baker wished him good luck;
saying, in so many words, that he was very sorry that things hadn't worked
out the way Josh had hoped they would.  Josh, encouraged by both Bitsy and
his mother to do so, promptly followed up on CPO Baker's suggestions the
next day, only to be told in each case, that all their billets were full at
present, but that he could always check back in a couple months time, just
to see if they had any openings.

	Josh didn't have a couple of months.  He only had a couple of weeks
and, only one other option opened to him if he wanted to avoid the draft as
he saw it.  And that option was Canada.  He could, like so many others of
his age group, become a draft dodger.  He could cut and run; head up north;
cross the US/Canadian border and there, as a self-proclaimed exile, spend
an uncertain future, wondering if he might ever again be able to legally
return to the country of his birth.

	Trouble was, Josh wasn't to keen on becoming a draft dodger.  As
much as he hated the idea of personally becoming involved in war he truly
believe to be both immoral and unconstitutional, he still felt that he owed
his country something.

	The question he kept asking himself was: did the country's illegal
prosecution of the War in Vietnam as he saw it, relieve him of his
obligation to service in a branch of its' armed services, especially so
since he had willing volunteered to do just that, but had been subsequently
rejected due his a prior medical condition?

	Then, compounding in on those circular ponderings of his, were the
often verbalized opinions of both Bitsy and his mother, neither of which
wanted to see him drafted into the army.  They both feared that as a
draftee, he would end up as a M16 totting ground-pounder, sloshing through
the jungle and rice paddies of South Vietnam.

	Josh was in a quandary as to what to do.

	Even though she did her darndest to hide the fact, Josh knew that
his mother was taking his father's death hard.  Should he decided to comply
with the draft notice and there by face the very real possibility of ending
up as a grunt in South Vietnam, Josh knew that he stood the very real
chance of either getting kill or severely maimed and, if something as
traumatic as that should occur, he had grave misgiving about his mother's
ability to cope the tragic news, even with Bitsy on hand to lend his mother
her support.  Also, upon taking into consideration his mother's rather
fragile and frayed state of mind, Josh pretty much ruled out the Canadian
option.  Even with all the risk involved, there was a far better chance of
his returning home from Vietnam than there was Canada.

	If he went to Canada to dodge the draft, he would become a fugitive
and as a fugitive, subject to immediate arrest and prosecution should he
ever return to the United States.

	There was a third option that Josh spent a lot of time seriously
considering.  He could comply with the draft notice; enter the army and
dutifully comply with all that was required of him, save for his going to
Vietnam.  Upon receiving orders to report for a tour of duty in South East
Asia, he could do as the infamous Fort Hood Three had done.  Like them, he
could claim that war in Vietnam was unconstitutional and that his
participation in that undeclared war would be a clear violation of the oath
he had sworn to protect and defend the Constitution and the county it had
constituted; hoping that by doing so that his case might help to raise the
national consciousness much the way the freedom riders had years earlier
when they had blatantly challenged the legality of oppressive and unjust
laws.

	If it wasn't for his mother, Josh, knowing that he would face both
the disgrace of a court marshal and the many years of imprisonment that
would no doubt be metered out to him by an unsympathetic court, he would
have elected to go that route in a heart beat.

	Josh was nothing less a product of his times.  He had been raised
in the Catholic Faith, by good Catholic parents.  Meaning: there's was
right and wrong; there was good and bad!  The true was the truth and a lie
was a lie.  The world was therefore, black and white for Josh.  There was
no grey areas where ethics could be molded and there by modified to fit the
situation.  There existed no fudge-factor for Josh.

	Then, added into that equation was the fact that Josh had grown up
on Saturday matinees; watching Hoppy, Gene, Roy, The Duke and a whole host
of others who always let the bad guys go for their guns first.  He had
listen to Fess Parker, playing the part of Disney's version of the
Frontiersman Davy Crockett extol: 'Be sure you're right, then go ahead!'.
He knew the good guys wore the white hats.  They didn't start trouble, but
they sure as hell ended it.  They'd take an affront.  Maybe two.  Maybe
even three the way Audie Murphy would before being spurred on into taking
action.  But, then they'd stand their ground and you knew - sure as
shootin' - there'd be hell to pay!  The bad guys were going to get their
comeuppance.

	As he grew older, Josh realized that force of might wasn't the only
way to bring about justice.  Men like Gandi and King clearly demonstrated
the fact to Josh that noncompliance, while much slower in achieving its'
goal, was just as powerful weapon against injustice as was the force of
arms.

	Force of might does not lend itself to the making of converts.
Following the Tenets of Noncompliance has had a historical tendency to
create martyrs and martyrs have a tendency to create converts.  As the
number of converts increase, the prevailing injustices are scrutinized;
questioned; reexamined and hopefully set aright as the hearts of mankind
find they can no longer countenance the continuance of such disreputable
behavior.

	If nothing else, Josh endeavored to be true to himself.

	Trouble was: Josh was aware of the fact that he didn't operate in
an emotional vacuum.  He was keenly aware that what he did or didn't do,
affected others.

	Having engaged in many a long night discussion with Bitsy, Josh
felt fairly secure that, while she might not like any of his options, given
the fact that she felt the same way about the war that he did, she would
support him in which ever one he chose.  If he went to Canada, she would
stay with his mother until she felt that Mrs. Oats had reached a stage in
her grief where it became feasible for her join Josh in his self-imposed
exile.  If he went to either Vietnam or federal prison, she had been
dogmatic over the fact that she would wait for his return, however long it
might take for the two to realize that reunion.

	Josh's mother, as Bitsy was quick and incessantly pointing out, was
something else altogether.  Though she was trying to put a good face on the
matter of her son's imminent induction into the United States Army,
Mrs. Oats wasn't fairing very well at all.  She dreaded his leaving and
feared that if her only child did so, that the only way he would ever
return home to her was in a body bag, just another hapless causality of a
war that should have never been fought.

	Each night, upon going to bed, Mrs. Oats would cry herself to
sleep; not knowing if she did so for her dear departed husband, for her
son, for herself, or for an elusive combination of the three.  She was
heart sick and growing more so with the passing of each and every day.

	"I don't know what do, Bits!" Josh raged against the quandary he
was dealing with.

	"If I go to Canada, I may never be able to come home!  If I end up
getting killed in Vietnam, my mom will probably go right off the deep end
and end up in a looney bin somewhere!  And if I do what I'd really like to
do!  You know, and force 'em to court marshal me, there's no way in hell
that she'll be able to handle the social stigma that'll most likely result
from my actions!"

	"I know, Josh...  Believe me, I know..."


* * *


	"Josh!" his mother called, beckoning him out of the kitchen where
he had been busily attending to the diner dishes to rejoin Bitsy and
herself at the dinning room table.

	As her son took his seat, Mrs. Oats sighed a heavy sigh and said,
"Alright!  The time has come for the three of us have to a little heart to
heart talk.

	"First off, let me just say that I not blind and that neither one
of you are pulling the wool over my eyes.  Believe me, I know what's been
going on down here damn near every night after I've gone up to bed.  I've
got ears and though I haven't heard everything the two of you have been
saying to one another, I think I've pretty much caught the gist of what the
two of you have been talking about.

	"I know you don't want to go in the army, Josh.  I know you've
considered going to Canada.  I know you're worried about me.  I know you're
worried about Bitsy.  And, I know how you feel about Vietnam.  I know you
don't want to go.

	"And I also I know that you've decided to just let them draft you
and if that means that you eventually end up being sent to Vietnam, you've
decided to just go and get it over with.  Correct?"

	Josh asserted that, while he wasn't the least little bit happy
about it, that yes: that was the indeed the decision he had reluctantly
arrived at.

	Turning her gaze from her son and onto Bitsy, Mrs. Oats continued
on to ask, "So, are you going to tell him?  Or, are you going to force me
to be the one that has to do it?"

	"Tell me what?" an extremely curious Josh rudely interject.

	"That Bitsy here has a solution to all your problems."

	"She does?"

	"She most certainly does." there was a stern, chastising
matter-of-factness conveyed in his mother's rejoinder.  "I suspect that the
reason she hasn't told you about this rather farfetched sounding solution
of hers is because she thinks its' more than a little bit selfish and self
serving on her part."

	"Farfetched?  Selfish?  Self serving?" Josh, feeling as if he were
grasping for straws, quizzically quipped.  "I must say: the two of you are
being so... so...  What's that word?  Oh!  I know!  Cryptic!  The word I'm
looking for is cryptic!

	"The two of you are being so cryptic that you have really piqued my
interested as to what this so called solution of yours is all about!"

	"So, what I'd like to know is: why haven't you told me about this
before now, Bits?

	"I mean, if you have a way that'll keep me from getting drafted, I
sure as hell would like to hear it!"

	Aware of just how hard this was going to be for that 'adopted
daughter' of hers, Mrs. Oats defensively interceded on Bitsy's behalf,
"Don't be to hard on her, Josh!"

	"Any why shouldn't I be hard on her?

	"I mean, I've only been racking my brain trying to come up with a
way to get around this draft business for what?  Two or three weeks now?
And she thinks that she has a solution and hasn't seen fit to say one
single word about it!

	"I mean, I think I have the perfect right to be a little bit bent
out of shape about it!

	"Josh!" his mother chided.  "That's enough of that!  And, I won't
hear anymore of it!  You understand!"

	Though it was half-hearted offered, Josh replied that he did, where
upon, his mother continued on to say, "Believe me!  This is hard on her as
it is on you!  So, just calm down a little and listen to what she has to
say!  Alright?"

	Josh, somewhat disgruntly said that he would, prompting Mrs. Oats
to relinquish control over the thrust of the conversation as she briskly
directed, "Okay, Bitsy!  Please, tell my son what you can do to him in
order to keep him from having to comply with that draft notice of his."

	Though it seemed to pain her to do so, Bitsy meekly managed, "I can
turn you into a girl!"

	Oh, that's a great solution!" Josh sarcastically quipped.  "And,
what am I going to have to do?  Spend the rest of my life masquerading as
girl?"

	"I'm not talking about you masquerading as a girl.  I'm saying that
I can actually turn you into one!"

	"That ridiculous!" Josh retort was harshly couched.  "Absolutely
ridiculous!

	"Or, are your seriously suggesting, in a very round about manner,
that I undergo the series of surgical procedures and hormone treatments
necessary to cosmetically become one the way that Christine Jorgensen did!
Because if you are, you can just forget it!"

	"No.  That's not what I'm talking about at all!" Bitsy replied
evenly.  "I said that I could turn you into a girl and that's exactly what
I meant."

	"Come on, Bits!  That's crazy!  There's no way you or anybody else
can do something like that!"

	"I can and have." Bitsy countered flatly.

	"Josh!" his mother quickly interjected.  "Please!  Do us all a
favor!  Just be quiet for a few minutes and listen to what Bitsy has to
say!"

	"Mom!  You don't mean to tell me that you seriously believe that
she can change me into a girl?"

	"Yes...  Yes, I do!

	"I didn't at first... but I do now."

	"Josh!" Bitsy beseeched in an effort to regain his attention.

	"Tell me something.  Have I every lied to you?

	"I mean, while I'll admit that I might have deceived you.  You
know, like when I didn't tell you about me and my leaving the novitiate.
But, please!  Think about it!  Have you ever known me to have out right
lied to you?"

	Josh didn't need to think about his answer.  He knew it as well as
he did his own name.

	"No.  You've never lied to me."

	Reaching across the table and taking both of his hands in hers,
Bitsy proceeded on to emphatically say, "And, as hard as it might be for
you to believe this, I'm not lying to you now!  I can do what I said I
could do!  I can give you a whole new life by changing you into a girl!

	"Josh!" Mrs. Oats, taking her right hand and placing gentle down
upon theirs, sought to add her affirmation, "You know how Bitsy feels about
you!  You know she has your best interest at heart!  So please!  I implore
you!  Try to reserve your judgement until you've had the chance to hear her
out!  Alright?"

	Josh, though he felt foolish for doing so, agreed to his mother's
demands.

	And so, Bitsy began her story.

	"While I was out in Allegany County, staying in that commune I've
been telling you about, I met and made friends with a beautiful and ageless
looking full blooded American Indian woman that went by, what I believe to
be, the assumed name of Aurora Nightwing.

	"She claimed to be, what she herself termed, an Algonquian
Composite; saying that she could trace her roots on her father's side to a
mixture of Wyandot and Erie, and on her mother's, to the Lenape and the
Nanticoke of the Delmarva Peninsula."

	"Did you..." Josh, spurred on by surge of green eyed jealousy, felt
compelled to ask, "...you know?"

	"No!  Aurora and I did have that kind of friendship.

	"However, I will say that had she made any sort of ovation in that
regard, I would have jumped at the chance to share that sort of intimacy
with her.

	"But, the point is: she didn't.  So, you needn't get yourself all
in a dither in that respect, Josh.  Alright?"

	Josh replied that he wouldn't and so, Bitsy, with a reassuring
squeeze of his hands, returned to telling of her remarkable story.

	"I met Aurora early in the evening of my first day at the commune.
It was right after dinner, when I was being introduced around that I felt
this - for a lack of a better way to put this - overwhelming presence
behind me.

	"I turned and there I was, face to face with the most fascinating
person I have ever had the pleasuring of meeting.

	"Then, before I could regain my composure in order to introduce
myself and not sound like some sort of babbling idiot, this phenomenal
woman reaches over; takes my hands in hers; looks me square in the eyes and
proceeds to tell me things, things that she could never have known, things
about myself that nobody could have told her about!

	"I mean, she began by informing me that she knew that my spirit was
tortured with the desires of a man's longing.  She told me that my
confusion and inner turmoil stemmed from the fact that I was seeking
something I had already found but had long denied and that my heart beat in
syncopated harmony with another's.  Compassionately, Aurora drew me aside.
Taking me into a small room that was right off of the commune's rather
large common room where everyone seemed to gather for communal evening
get-togethers, she drew me down onto a bench beside her and proceeded on to
say that if I were willing, she would help me learn what I needed to learn
in order to help myself find the peace and completion I so desperately
sought.

	"Basically, I guess you could say that Aurora served as the
commune's spiritual guide, shaman, guru, high priestess or whatever you
might call it all rolled into one!

	"So anyhow, I was so intrigued with everything that Aurora had been
telling me about myself, I eagerly accepted her offer to become one of her,
shall we say, mystical disciples.  Where upon, she hugged me and continued
on to informed me that I best collect whatever belongings I had brought
with me, due to the fact that if I was going to become one of her
protegees, it would be best were I to relocated to the little log cabin
where she and her two other students resided.

	"I did as directed.  I quickly collected my belongings and soon
found myself following the amazing woman along a well traversed trailed
that weave its' way to the other side of the mountain side property that
the commune was leasing and finally delivered us to the cozy little rustic
mountain cabin that Aurora Nightwing and her two protegees, Kelly and Pam,
called home.  As we walked, my curiosity got the best of me and so, I just
came out and asked Aurora to explain how she had deduced all those personal
things about me.  Her answer was simple.  She had read my aura; adding, in
that slightly irritating cryptic manner she usually adopted when talking
about mystical matters, that since I had the inherent ability to do
likewise, that as soon as I learned to transcend the caprices of worldly
concerns, she'd be more than happy to teach me to how to read auras as
well.  Then, once I had master that achievement, she promised that she
would continue on to show me how to then manipulate their intrinsic nuances
in order to bring about certain desired and dynamic results.

	"The next day, after the four of us finished breakfast and the
morning chores, Aurora, having assigned areas of study to her other two
apprentices, took me out on the porch and taught me how to meditate through
a process that she referred to as the 'Inner Journey'.  Having tried and
failed on numerous occasions before to reach a state of enlightened
transcendency, I was both surprise and delighted at how easily and quickly
Aurora's 'Inner Journey' produced the results I had been told to expect.

	"Within three days, though I will freely admit that they were short
lived and extremely elusive at best initially, I began to perceive these
auras that Aurora had been talking about almost insistently.  Out of the
corner of my eye, I began to catch fleeting, snap-shot like glimpses of
them everywhere.  Sometimes they'd be surrounding others, who, like me,
resided at the artist commune.  Other times, I'd see a squirrel scampering
along a branch or take note of a bird, you know, like a red tailed hawk or
a turkey vulture riding effortlessly on a thermal, and for a mere second or
so, perceive that it was enveloped within a faint, shimmering band of what
I incorrectly took at the time to be, erratically vacillating hues.

	"A day or after that, not only did my perception of auras gain in
both duration and prominence, but I also began to see them everywhere;
enveloping anything and everything that existed with the blessing of what
Aurora called The Great Spirit's gift of life.  Trees!  Bushes!  Animals!
And of course people!  I began to see auras everywhere, enveloping
everything that was in any way, shape or form alive!

	"Oddly enough, whenever I forced the issue and consciously tried to
see them, I couldn't!  Ironically, I could only perceive auras when my
spirit was awash in a sense of inner tranquility and unparalleled serenity.
Then, they were everywhere.

	"At this stage in my rapidly expanding metaphysical attuned
awareness, I began to take note of what Aurora liked to call metaphysical
footprints.  When a living thing came in contact with anything, whether
that thing it came in contact was living or not, its' aura left a readable
and intrinsic telltale of that intimate contact.

	"Then, in an effort to enhance my abilities, the four of us would
pass our evenings playing a little game of the metaphysical version of Hot
Buttered Beans Come to Supper.  Taking turns, Aurora would direct one or
the other of us to exit the room; where upon, the remaining three would set
about touching various objects that were contained within the room.  Then,
whomever had been sent out of the room a moment or so before, was called
back in and directed to identify not only which objects had been touched,
but also by whom they had been most recently touched by.

	"Eventually, after about I good month or so of getting in touch
with the inner 'me', I found that I was seeing auras practically all the
time and because I was, Aurora deemed it appropriate that I participate in
something that I had been excluded form participating in before.

	"You see, in order to give the two of you some background on this,
I have to tell you that the commune I was staying at served as sort of a
layover on the present day version of the Underground Railroad that, I
guess you could say, had been hastily resurrected in order to help the ever
increasing numbers of draft dodgers make their way northward towards the
Canadian border.

	"So anyhow, on several previous occasions, for some reason or
another that was never fully or adequately explained to me at the time,
Aurora would take it upon herself to intercede on the behave of one or
another of these young men who had opted to head up to Canada rather than
face the prospect of being inducted into the United States Army.  Taking
the would be draft dodger and my cabin mates Kelly and Pam with her,
Aurora, saying only that the three of them would be gone for the entire
night and would return sometime the next morning, would, with flashlights
and a couple of battery powered lanterns in hand, bid me a fond good-bye
and slip off silently into the night.  The next day, when Aurora did
return, generally accompanied by either Kelly or Pam, but never both, she
wouldn't say a single solitary word to me about what she and those two
roommates and new found friends of mine had been up to.

	"As the two of you might expect, I was as curious as all get out
about what they had been doing!

	"The only thing Aurora ever told me with respect to what they had
been doing, was to patient; saying that if I kept progressing as quickly as
I had been, it wouldn't be long before I found myself include in these
nightly forays of their's.

	"The odd thing I was: I never saw any of these so called draft
dodgers ever again.  Neither, I might add, did anyone else!

	"And you best believe!  I checked!

	"Granted!  People were always coming and going at the commune.

	"I mean, some would stay for a day or even a couple of days and
then, for any number of reason, they'd bug out.  Some, might stay for a
week.  Others, for two.  A few, a month or more.  Some would come up for
weekends.  And still others, would drop by every now and again just to hang
out and, as some would say, get back to nature.

	"In other words, nobody paid a whole lot of attention to the comes
and goings of the people at the commune, since it wasn't unusually for
someone to spend only a night or two before hitting the road again

	"That said, I still thought it rather strange at the time that I
never caught sight of any of the guys that went off with Kelly, Pam and
Aurora ever again.

	"I mean, even though I eventually discounted the notion, given that
I found no other evidence to support it, I have to confess that for a while
there, I was beginning to have serious doubts concerning the three women I
was living with.  For a few days there, I actually found myself wondering
if they were going off into the woods somewhere and engaging in some kind
of satanic service involving human sacrifice; especially so since a fairly
large percentage of the books that Aurora had that dealt with the occult
and various forms of mysticism down through the ages, also dealt with
aspects of voodoo, the darker, eviler side of witchcraft and satanic
worship.

	"You can't believe how relieved I was when those fears of mine were
finally put to rest.

	"One evening in late August, as Kelly, Pam, and I were in the
process of preparing dinner for the four of us, Aurora, accompanied by a
very nervous and ill at ease looking eighteen or nineteen year old draft
dodger, returned to the cabin.  Leaving the guy out in the living room to
more or less fend for himself, our mentor waltzed into kitchen where the
three us were and proceeded on to inform us that our special brand of
services had once again been requested and that as soon as it began to get
dark, we'd all be heading up to the Grotto where she would have Pam
perform, what she termed, a Metaphysical Intervention; adding, in so many
words, that my participation was not only requested, but required.

	"The guy's name was Brad and on Aurora's urging, he joined the four
of us for dinner.  Afterwards, since we had a couple of hours to kill
before we headed out, Kelly, who was an avid proponent of free sex and a
self proclaimed nymphomaniac to boot, saying that since it would be his
last chance to enjoy a roll in the hay as a man, took a delightfully
stunned Brad up to the bedroom loft the four of us shared and there,
proceeded to engage in no holds bar love making session with him.

	"Then, just before nightfall, the five of us, with battery powered
lanterns and flashlights in hand, plus one of those boat seat cushions type
of loop handled flotation devices apiece, formed up in a single file behind
Aurora and began to carefully make our way through the woods to this so
called mysterious sounding Grotto that our mentor had made mention of
earlier.

	"I guess we walked for about an hour or so and do I know - Because
Aurora told me. - that we cut across a small portion of Dan's Mountain
State Park before we came to what I first incorrectly assumed to be a
small, secluded, spring fed dell, but later learned to be in all actuality
a sink hole, a sink hole that granted access to an ivy and fern conceal
cave entrance.  We had to get down on our hands and knees to enter the
cave, but once we were all inside, I was pleasantly surprised the there was
more than enough room for the five us to stand and move around a little.

	"Aurora allowed Brad and myself a few minuets to look around the
cave's main and roughly circular chamber and then, she called us over and
turned control of the proceedings over to Pam, who, as I had been informed
back at the cabin, would handle the Metaphysical Intervention from that
point on.  Taking charge, Pam directed Brad to place his cushion and sit
down in what she deemed to be the chamber's approximate center, where upon,
she, Kelly and Aurora placed their cushions in an equatorial triangle about
his.  I, as I had been previous instructed to do, placed my cushion to
Aurora's immediate right, so that she could, employing non-obtrusives
whispers, provide me with a blow by blow description of what was occurring.

	"Next, Pam had Brad turn about so that he faced her.  And, once he
had done that, Pam restated that the purpose of the night's activities was
to cause Brad to undergo a complete physical sexual reassignment, once
again making sure to have him restate both his desire and permission to
have her turn him into a fully functional female in the process.

	"Having done that, Pam, getting down to specifics, ran through a
fairly thorough check list of feminine physical attributes, so as to
ascertain what kind of woman Brad would like to become.  Then, once Pam
felt that she had established a fairly accurate mental image of the girl
that she was about to turn Brad into, she rummaged around inside of the
knapsack she had brought with her and produced a small, velvet bound-up
bundle.  Unwrapping the bundle, Pam exposed a finely wrought crystal vile
and, upon removing the several bands of earlier applied Scotch Tape that
had secured its' stopper against jarring loose on the trail, passed it over
to Brad.

	"Then, prior to directing Brad to remove the stopper and partake of
the liquid contents of the vile, Pam took another moment out to advise him
of the fact that the vile contained an extremely powerful hallucinogenic
agent and, that while it wouldn't in and of itself bring about his being
turned into a member of the opposite sex, it would facilitate his being
placed in a mental state that would grant Pam the necessary leeway to
affect a substantial change in his intrinsic metaphysical signature.
Which, in turn, would trigger a catastrophic upheaval in his genetic
makeup, where in his maleness would be completely eradicate and an alien
femaleness would be imprinted and there by, cause a fairly rapid and
comprehensive reapportionment to occur in his physical deportment.

	"At least that's more or less the way Aurora explained it to me.

	"Basically, what Pam told Brad was that the liquid was nothing more
than a hallucinogenic drug and that while it wouldn't change him into a
girl, it would however make it possible for Pam to bring about the desired
change through the manipulation of his aura.

	"Also, after Pam laid all that highfalutin gobbledygook of Aurora's
on him, she continued on to make mention of the fact that traces of the
hallucinogenic would be present in both his blood and urine for sometime to
come and that those traces would help to support the claim of amnesia that
he would be eventually making, that would in turn, put the onus on the
authorities to aid him in establishing a new identity for the young women
he was on the verge of becoming.

	"Brad, though the trepidation in his voice suggested otherwise,
said that he understood, prompting Pam to direct him to drink all of the
contents of vile.

	"As I recall, Brad didn't drink, but once again sought
clarification and reassurance as he meekly asked Pam if he would be pretty
as a girl.  Assuring him that he'd be a beautiful girl instead of being
merely a pretty one, Pam once again urged Brad to partake of the
hallucinogenic so that she could, as she put it, "Get on with the show."

	"This time, Brad did as directed and within a few minutes of
ingesting the liquid, was showing definite signs that the hallucinogenic
was beginning to net the desired results.  Modulating her voice, Pam
soothing intonations dew him into a very receptive state of unburdened
serenity and the rest us into a heightened plane of metaphysical awareness.

	"Kelly, upon a almost imperceptible nod from Aurora for her to do
so, reached over and turned off the lantern that sat on the cave's floor,
just off to her right and a smidgen or so to her rear.  Then, employing a
twisting motion of her right hand's thumb and index finger, Aurora directed
me to do likewise with the lantern that sat just off to my right.  I
complied, only to find the cave still dimly lit by the flickering rainbow
hued radiance of our collective auras.

	"As she slowly exhaled the deep, stilling breath she had taken but
a moment before, Pam, in full and conscious control of the proceedings,
extended a pair of luminous tendrils from her aura, one towards Kelly and
the other towards Aurora.  As she did so, Aurora completed her portion of
the linkage by extending one of her own aura birthed and anchored tendrils
towards me and another towards the one that Kelly was even then in the
process of extending towards her.  Then, as the spur modified tirade
coalesced into a state of completeness, a oneness of consciousness was
established between the four of us.  The four of us were as one until Pam,
exercising her authority, commanded the focus of our beings as she began to
extend a slender, silver-white tendril of raw metaphysical power towards
Brad's own enveloping aura.

	"As it did so, I sensed Aurora's presence in the crucible of my
mind's eye, subtly asking me if I could discern how Brad's aura differed
from ours.

	"Though I hadn't seen any difference at first, Aurora's mental
urgings caused me to take a second look and as I did so, I came to the
stark realization that Brad's aura was indeed significantly different from
ours.  Its' colors were more vivid, more intense.  Where upon receiving my
acknowledgement of such, Aurora proceeded on to informed me over the
tendril spur that linked the two of us together, that the harsh, bold
coloration of Brad's aura was what defined the maleness of his intrinsic
nature.

	"Having done that, Aurora next instructed me to pay close attention
to how Pam went about modulating the color intensity of Brad's male attuned
aura to match the much softer hued coloration of our distinctly feminine
auras.

	"I did so.  I watch as Pam began to take those vivid, brash colors
of Brad's manly pulsating aura and slowly engender and entice them to
perceptible soften; to become more pastel in hue and therefore, more
feminine in their intrinsic nature.

	"As Aurora mentally informed me over the bond established by her
aura tendril, Pam had to maintain control until Brad's genic makeup fully
aligned itself with the essence of sublime femininity that Pam had
metaphysically imprinted on his aura; continuing on to inform me that
should Pam withdraw her influence before such was fully accomplished, his
aura would polarize and quickly revert to its' former maleness.  However,
once Brad's genetic makeup echoed the quintessential essence of femininity
that Pam had deftly imposed on his aura, she could withdraw her
metaphysical influence and allow the physical change that she had
precipitated proceed all on its' own accord.

	"Suddenly Brad's newly pastel hued aura flared, fully illuminating
the cave room as it did so and signifying the fact that the genetic fiber
of his elemental being had completely excepted the aura imposed sexual
alteration and therefore, had initiated a catastrophic and comprehensive
re-proportioning of his physical deportment.

	"Aware that her link to Brad no longer served a purpose, Pam began
to withdraw it.  As she did so, Aurora, without breaking the established
link, transferred Kelly's tendril from her to me.  Relinquishing control of
the sustained tendril ring which continued to link the four of us together
in the essence of our elemental unity, Pam settled into the equilibrium of
a quiescent state of emphatic renewal and the metaphysical rapture of
commiserative solace that the four of us continued to maintained for
several more minutes before Aurora mind-intonations suggested that it might
be wise for the four of us to terminate the aura link, due to the fact that
she wished for me to see the progression of Brad's physical changes for
myself; implying as she did so that were we to remain linked, I would be
far to distracted to pay any attention to the transsexualization that Brad
was even then in the process of undergoing.  With some reluctance, from not
only Kelly and Pam, but myself as well, the tendrils linking us one to the
other were mutually, albeit reluctantly, willed into a state of
nonexistence and we each returned to our own, seemly rather dulled and
diluted sense of self.

	"Then, as our collected auras began to gradually loose the
illumination necessary to give us sufficient light to see by, Kelly,
knowing what was expected of her, reached over and turned on her lantern.
Needing no encouragement from Aurora, I did likewise, only to realize that
the Brad that sat before me, was a far different looking Brad than the one
Aurora had introduced me to earlier that evening.  Though he was a far cry
from being what one might call feminine, he was no were near as masculine
looking as he had been a short hour or so before.

	"Though it had been scraggly at best, the poor excuse for a beard
and moustache that Brad had been attempting to grow, were gone without a
trace.  Also gone the way of the dodo were those muttonchops styled
sideburns his.  His eyebrows had thinned out considerably and his nose and
ears seemed to be somewhat smaller than I remembered them to be.  His jaw
line was less rugged and cheekbones more pronounced.  And, though a few of
the deeper pits were still in evidence, a good portion of his acne scars
had up and disappeared.  His formerly straighter than straight, ill kempt
jet black hair had taken on, what I thought to be, a chestnut hue and had
also appeared to have gained some body and a mere hint of a natural curl in
the process.

	"Moving downward form Brad's face, I took note of the fact that his
T-shirt had just begun to showed some evidence of the conical development
of female breast.

	"The clink of his high school ring impacting hard on the Grotto's
limestone floor, drew my attention to Brad's hands, hands that were, for my
money, a whole hell of a lot more feminine in composition than they were
masculine.

	"Suddenly, as I sat there, utterly transfix with what was going on
right before my very eyes, Brad went from being what I would term an
effeminate looking boy, to being a somewhat masculine looking girl.  A few
minutes later, all sense of his former masculinity was eradicate as I
beheld Brad turn into a reasonable cute, tomboyish and somewhat
underdeveloped looking teenage girl.  Shortly thereafter, that cute looking
teenage girl that Brad had become blossomed into a very attractive and well
endowed young lady, who in turn, continued on to develop into a absolutely
beautiful piece of feminine topography if ever there was one!

	"So anyhow, even though the young lady that Brad had become was
still deep in the throws of a hallucinogenic stupor and so, would remain
for sometime to come and therefore, to some degree or another, oblivious to
her new sexual status as a fully functional member of the fairer sex,
Aurora directed Pam and Kelly to remove the male clothing she was wearing
and dress her in a very unflattering granny dress and cheap pair of tennis
shoes that, unbeknownst to me, my cohorts had seen fit to provide her with.

	"Next, Aurora produced a set of car keys and a rolled up wad of
dog-eared one dollar bills from one or another of her bell bottom's pockets
and handed them both over to Kelly who would, as I was perfunctory
informed, be driving our new made little lady to a safe house that was
located just outside of the Township of Berkeley Springs, West Virginia.
Where, as I was duly informed, our newly feminized draft dodger would
receive a very comprehensive crash course in how to adequately function in
this world of ours as a viable and believable woman.  Then, sometime after
experiencing her first period, the young woman that Pam had turned the
former Bradley Whateverhislastnamewas into, would be taken to a city such
as Washington, D.C.; Richmond, Virginia; Baltimore, Maryland; Columbus,
Ohio; Philadelphia or Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, or some other large
metropolitan area within in, shall we say, a five hundred mile radius and
there, turn up one day at a hospital or a police station with the clam that
she didn't know who she was, or where she lived, or what had happened to
her, there by forcing the loacl authorities to move Heaven and Earth in an
all out effort on their part to aid her in establishing a brand new legally
verifiable identity for herself.

	"Then, with all of that taken care of, we collected the various
paraphernalia that we had brought with us and, once again on our hands and
knees, exited Aurora's so called Grotto and started to make our way back to
our cabin.  About forty minutes or so later, at a fork in the trail that we
had been following, Pam, Aurora and I bid Kelly and her still extremely
dazed charge a fond adieu and parted company.  Kelly and her charge, as I
had been informed by Aurora, would head back to the farm complex that
served as the hub and living quarters of the commune and there, climb into
a sun bleached forest green VW bug that was parked out behind the barn for
the drive over to the safe house in Berkeley Springs.

	"The following week, I watched as Kelly turned another fellow who
was fleeing the draft into a beautiful, long legged, freckled faced
redheaded virgin.  Two days after that, it was Pam's turn to once again
step into the batter's box and do a number on some geeky guy's aura,
turning him into a raven haired sexpot in the process.  Then, upon her
pronouncement that I was ready to move on to the next stage of my training,
Aurora had me, shall we say, metaphysically piggyback her, as she took it
upon herself to performed the next three Metaphysical Interventions that
the four of us undertook over the course of the next two weeks.

	"Then, with repeated assurances from Aurora, Kelly and Pam that I
had reached a stage where I was more than adequately prepared to do the
deed myself, I was informed by Aurora that it would be my turn to officiate
at the next Intervention.  Two days later, with Aurora piggybacking me, you
know, instead of the other way around, I turned this great big strapping
hunk of a guy into a petite, to be almost pixieish, hourglass figured and
angelically faced brunette.  Three days after that, with almost no help
from Aurora, I took a fat slob and turned him into a very young looking
Marilyn Monroe facsimile.  And the week following that, working all on my
own, I employed a little creative license and changed this poor slob of a
guy into a first class babe, if ever there was one!

	"Also, on Aurora's urgings that I thoroughly acquainted myself with
the crash course of How to be a Woman that a pair of Aurora's former male
to female makeovers were running as, shall we say, an adjunct to the
Metaphysical Interventions that Aurora, from time to time, took it upon
herself to offer as a viable alternative to becoming a fugitive to a select
group of handpicked young men that had stopped by our commune on their
journey northward to Canada, not only did I end up doing most of the
chauffeuring, but I started splitting my time equally between the cabin and
the roomy Victorian styled safe house in Berkeley Springs.

	"And, though it has absolutely no bearing on anything that I've
been telling you, it was at that time that I, along with whomever I could
cajole into accompanying me, began to start driving all the way down here
to hear you perform and, whenever possible, stop in and see how your mom
and dad were doing..."


* * *


	"So," Bitsy, sighed, "I guess what it all this comes down to is
this, Josh!  You don't have to go into the Army if you don't want to!  I
have the means at my disposal to give you a new life!  As incredible as it
sounds, I really can change you into a girl!"

	Josh, who was having a hell of hard time coming to grips with the
sheer and utter absurdity of all of what Bitsy had just been telling him,
sought his mother's input.  "Mom!  And you're saying that you actually
believe that she can do what she says she can do?"

	"Yes, Josh.  I do.  I really, truly do.

	"Besides, if she can't, you've haven't lost anything.  You'll still
be facing the same dilemma over the draft business you're facing now.
Right?"

	"Yeah, I guess so..." Josh, with some trepidation evident in his
voice, reluctantly admitted.

	Then, turning the full thrust of his attention back on Bitsy, Josh
demanded, "Okay!  Let's say, just for kicks and giggles of it, that I buy
into this rather farfetched malarkey of yours about how you can turn me
into a girl, you know, so I can make an end around on this pending draft
notice business that I'm facing!

	"My question is why!  Why in the world haven't you told me about
this before?

	"I mean, you've had opportunity to do so up the yin-yang and for
some God forsaken reason or another, you haven't seen fit to say a single,
solitary word about it!

	"What I want to know is: how come?  What gives?"

	"Josh!" Bitsy pleaded.  "The reason I didn't tell you was because I
was afraid!"

	"Afraid of what?" Josh tersely demanded.

	"I was afraid that you wouldn't believe me!  But more to the point,
I was afraid that if you did believe me, you would think me selfish and
self-serving!"

	"Selfish?  Self-serving?" thoroughly confused, Josh repeated
Bitsy's words quizzically.  "I sorry, Bits!  I wish I knew what you were
driving at!  But, I'm sad to say: I don't!  I really don't!  So please, do
me a favor!  Explain it to me!  Will ya?"

	"Josh!" Bitsy began, taking great pains to emphasis each and every
word she spoke.  "You know how I feel about you!  But, you also know all
about these damnable sexual tendencies of mine!"

	Josh, seeking clarification, interjected. "You mean, about you and
your liking girls pretty much the same way I do?"

	"Yes!  That's it in a nutshell!

	"I like other girls!  You know, in a way we women aren't supposed
to!

	"And because I do, given that this lesbian business that I've been
saddled with is all that stands in the way of you and I having the kind of
relationship that we both dearly want, I was afraid that you'd take my
offer to turn you into a girl in the wrong light!  I was afraid that you
would think that I was making the offer only as a means to satisfy my own
needs!

	"You see, Josh, while I have never told anyone but Aurora Nightwing
and your mother here about this, as crazy as it's going to sound, would you
believe that I have fantasized about my being able to somehow find the
means where by I could turn you into a girl since the very first time the
two of us went out together! "

	"You have?" Bitsy's revelation, coming out of left field as it did,
took Josh by complete surprise.

	"Yes, Josh!  I have!  In these admitted far out and down right
wacky fantasies that I used to concoct to entertain myself all throughout
our high school days, I came up with a whole slew of ways by which I would
manage to turned you into a girl.  Sometimes, in these fantasies of mine, I
would use a witch's spell to turn the tables on you!  Other times, I would
employ a wide variety of magical items!  You know, such as a piece of
women's clothing or jewelry that I would somehow coerce you into trying on
for me!

	"Would you believe that, more times than not, when it came to
wishing, that's exactly what I'd wish for!  You know, as in nine out of ten
times when I'd made a wish back then, I'd be wishing for a way to make one
of those far fetched fantasies of mine a reality!

	"And then, what in the hell happens!  I go and meet Aurora
Nightwing!  And, what does she do?  She, having perceived my needs right
from the get-go, proceeds to teach me how to do the one thing I've been
fantasizing about doing since you, Mr. Joshua Oats, came into my life!

	"Let me tell you something!  The day after I presided over my first
Metaphysical Intervention without any help whatsoever from Aurora, I was so
tempted to come back here and turn you into the girl of my dreams that it
wasn't funny!"

	"So why didn't you?" Josh, his curiosity peeked, heard himself ask.

	"Because!" Bitsy pleaded.

	"Because, isn't going to cut it, Bits!

	"I asked you a question and I would really like to hear an answer!"

	"Because... I couldn't do something like that to you without at
least getting your permission first!"

	"Well, I must say: I'm sure glad to hear you say that!

	"I mean, had you gone and turned me into a girl without so much as
a by your leave, mother may I or something along those lines, I tend to
believe that I would have be more than a little bit pissed about it!

	"However, that doesn't explain why you didn't get in touch with me
and at least give me the option."

	"Had I told you back then what I've told you tonight, would you
have believed me anymore then, than you do now?"

	"No...  No, I don't suppose so..."

	"And had you, would you have allowed me to actually turn you into a
girl?"

	"You mean," Josh sought clarification, "so the two of us could be
together?"

	"Yes.  So the two of us could be together..."

	"I'm not sure.

	"I mean, while I'd like to think I would be willing to do almost
anything so the two of us could be together, you know, the way we both
would like us to be, I'm not sure that even if I did believe that such a
thing as what you're suggesting is possible, I could bring myself to
actually see my way clear to the prospect of living the rest of my life as
a female."

	"I'm aware of that, Josh." Bitsy reassuringly offered.  "And that
is precisely why I haven't said anything about this Intervention Business
before tonight."

	"And that's precisely why I did!" Mrs. Oats fumed.

	"Look!  It goes without saying that the two of you are hopelessly
in love with one another!

	"Furthermore, though I find it hard to believe that I'm actually
sitting here, condoning something that I formerly would have looked upon as
a sinful perversion, I finally realized that somebody had to say something!
And if that someone had to be me, so be it!"

	"Mom!" Josh was incredulous.  "So, if I'm hearing you correctly,
you're saying that not only do you believe that Bitsy can do what she
claims she can do, but that you actually think I ought to let her change me
into a girl?"

	"To answer your first question: yes!  It's like I said before, I
truly believe that Bitsy here can do exactly what she claims she can do!

	"I've never known Bitsy to be a liar!  And, I really can't conceive
of her lying about this!

	"Besides, it like I said before, if she can - Great!  You both come
out winners!  If you become a girl, Josh, you don't have to worry about
being drafted!  Plus, as an extra bonus, you get to spend the rest of your
life with the girl you love!

	"And, if she can't do what she claims she can do, what have you
lost?

	"Nothing!  Not a damn thing!"

	"Mom!  Are you saying that you want me to become a girl?"

	"No, Josh!  I'm not saying that at all!  That's entirely your
choice!  You and you alone have to make that decision!  No one else can
make it for you!"

	"However, I will say that while I've loved having a son, a part of
me always longed for a daughter.

	"So, if you do decide to take Bitsy up on her offer, I think you
should know that I wouldn't be adverse to it.

	"In fact, there's a part of me that would actually relish it!

	"In other words, if you should chose to become a girl, know that
you do so with my blessings.

	"However, if chose not to, I will fully understand your decision.

	"I will say one thing though.  As you are probably already aware, I
don't want you going to Vietnam!  I don't think I could take loosing you
right on top of loosing your father..."

	The three of them spent the better part of that evening at the
dinner room table discussing, dissecting and examining Bitsy's reluctantly
offered proposal from every which way imaginable.  However, though they
did, Josh remained thoroughly perplexed as to what to do.  All throughout
their discussion, he kept asking himself two questions.  Should he just say
the hell with it and allow himself to inducted into the army.  Or, should
he take Bitsy up on her offer to change him into a girl and there by,
sidestep his draft notice?

	Though the answer to both of those questions seemed to be simple
ones, Josh found himself in a real quandary as to what to do.  Becoming a
female seemed, at face value, the most advantageous way for him to go.  It
would relieve him of the need to participate in what he truly believed to
be a constitutionally illegal use of the military in an undeclared foreign
war.  It would also allay his mother's fears and concerns for his welfare.
While his mother had, to some degree, skirted the issue surrounding how she
truly felt about him becoming the daughter she never had, she hadn't minced
words when it came to his pending induction into the Army.  She had been
adamant.  She did not want him to go.  Case closed.

	Bitsy, feeling that she had more than a little bit of a vested
interest in Josh's decision, had stubbornly resisted the damn near
omnipresent urge to speak up and give her opinion as to what she though
Josh should do.  However, when Mrs. Oats got her dander up and, in no
uncertain words, demanded that her 'adopted daughter' stop pussyfooting
around and tell her son exactly how she felt about the situation, Bitsy
complied; informing Josh that nothing would please her more than to have
him allow her to follow through with her suggestion.  Then, having done so,
she sheepishly continued on to point out the fact that by his agreeing to
become a girl, Josh would remove the only impediment that stood in the way
of the kind of relationship they both so dearly desired.

	Josh would have eagerly opted for Bitsy's option, were it not for
two things.  On one hand, he really felt that he owed his country a few
years of service.  And while it was true that he had tried to fulfill that
obligation by enlisting in the Navy, he wasn't sure in his own mind if
their subsequent rejection of him negated his obligation out of hand.
Though he tended to think it did, there was always that nagging and
pervasive doubt that it might not.

	And that trouble Josh, so much so that he had been agonizing over
that very thing ever since he received his draft notice in the mail.

	And then, on top of all that, Josh wasn't all that sure that he
could face the prospect of living the rest of his life as a fully
functioning and anatomically correct female.

	Truth was: Josh liked being a male.  And because he did, the mere
thought of his living the rest of his life in a body that was diametrically
out of sexual sync with that staunchly male mind of his scared the living
bejesus out of him.  Though Bitsy and his mother tried, over and over and
over again to reassure him that they be there to help him make the
necessary adjustments, repeatedly and emphatically stating that being a
girl wasn't anywhere near as bad as he was making it out to be, Josh
remained stubbornly resistive to the idea of his actually being changed
into a girl.

	Having thoroughly discussed the subject for about three and a half
hours with her son still unsure as to how he would proceed, Mrs. Oats,
saying that she was going to take a bath and then turn in for the night,
bid the two of them goodnight; got up from the table and headed upstairs.
An hour or so later, Bitsy, saying that she had to be at the Playboy Club
at eight o'clock the next morning to attend a special meeting of all the
Bunnies, did likewise; there by, leaving a very perplexed and indecisive
Josh to mull the matter over on his own mind.

	Feeling betwixt and between, Josh, having fixed himself a mug of
hot apple cider in the kitchen, went into the living room and there, alone
with his muddled and conflicting thoughts, began to once again endeavor to
logically reexamine his options.

	Round about three o'clock of the following morning, Josh, having
arrived at a tentative decision, quietly opened the door to Bitsy's room
and, though he hated like hell to disturb her, softly intone, "Bitsy..."

	Bitsy stirred and still more asleep than awake, groggily inquiry,
"Is that you, Josh?"

	"Yes.  I sorry I woke you, but I really need to talk to for a few
minutes?"

	Though she dearly wanted to ask him if it would keep until the
morning so that she could go back to sleep, Bitsy, keenly aware of her
soulmate's inner turmoil didn't do that.  Instead, she sat up and with a
couple pats directed at her bottom sheet, invited Josh to join her on the
bed.  As he did so, Bitsy reached over and taking his hands in hers gently
urged him to proceed as she said, "Alright.  You have my full attention.
So tell me.  What - exactly - do you want to talk about?"

	"Bitsy, though I hope to hell I don't come to regret this, I've
come to a decision.  As crazy and as absurd as it sounds, I want you to
change me into a girl."

	"That's great, Josh!" Bitsy began as she joyfully and tearfully
drew him into an emphatic embrace of a chaste lover.  "You can't begin to
believe how happy I am to hear you say that and I promise you: I will do
everything in my power and then some to make sure that you don't come to
regret this decision of yours!

	"I know that you feel that there's no way you're going to like
being a girl now!  But, I promise: you will!  You are going to absolutely
love it!

	"And, make no never mind about it!  I will move Heaven and Earth to
ensure that you do!"

	"I certainly hope so, Bits!

	"Because, I might as well come clean and tell you that if it
weren't for you and my mom, there's no way in hell I would be doing
something as mind boggling as this!"

	"I know, Josh...  I know you wouldn't...

	"And that's exactly why I love you like I do!"

	A few minutes after that, having touched upon some of the related
matters that Josh still had some concerns about, Bitsy asked, "So, I guess
the only the thing we have left to discuss is just when would you like me
to do the deed?"

	"Well..." Josh began thoughtfully, "...since I've already committed
to performances on both Friday and Saturday nights, plus the kids show I
promised to do on Saturday morning, not to mention, the anti-war rally
their holding over in the quadrangle in front of Briarcliff Hall on Sunday
afternoon, I guess I'd kind of like to hold off until after I've finished
up with those."

	"That's perfectly understandable." Bitsy commented, before
continuing on to inquire, "Oh!  Hey!  What about the open mike session at
the Town Crier on Sunday?  Didn't you say the other day that you were
planning to go?  You know, given the fact that this was to be your last
opportunity to do so before being inducted into the Army anyway?"

	"Yeah...  But, I can always miss it if I have to..."

	Having been informed on the QT that his fellow folksingers were
planning to throw a surprise send-off party for Josh at the Town Crier, the
locally based coffeehouse that hosted the weekly Sunday evening open mikes,
Bitsy, who's job it was to ensure that he be there, continued on to say, "I
wouldn't want you to do that.

	"Besides, since it'll be your last opportunity to do so, you really
ought to go!  You know, if for nothing more than for old time sake!"

	Though it took some more cajoling on Bitsy's part, Josh finally
gave up the ghost and informed her that, since she was so insistent, he'd
go on the one condition that she go with him.  Bitsy, who rarely if ever
missed one of his shows and only did so on account of her work schedule at
the Playboy Club, kiddingly informed him that if he thought she was going
to miss his last performance as a male, he had another think coming.

	Having said that, Bitsy proceeded on to suggest that, since Josh
had prudently not scheduled any performances after the upcoming weekend due
to his pending induction into the Army, she could, baring any unforeseen
events and his mother's concurrence, undertake the Intervention sometime
late Monday evening.  Josh, though it astonished him to realize that he was
actually doing so, agreed that since he could thinking of nothing that he
absolutely had to attend to after his weekend commitments, Monday evening
seemed as good as time as any for him to opt out of his life as a man.

	A minute or so later, Josh said, "Do you know what I'm really going
to miss about this old male life of mine, Bits?  I really going to miss my
music!"

	Then, upon reconsidering what he had just related, Josh, before
Bitsy could offer comment, hastily amended his former statement as
continued on to say, "Well... not my music, per se.  What I really meant to
say was: I going to miss performing.

	"I mean... I really found something that I'm good at and that I
really, really enjoy doing and now, because of that damn draft notice, I've
up and lost it all!"

	"Just what in the hell are you talking about, Josh?, Bitsy
countered with a harsh hint of sternness conveyed in her voice.

	"Just because you're going to let me turn you into a girl doesn't
mean that you have to stop performing!

	"True, it'll be a set back and you'll have to start all over from
scratch!  But, that's the be all and end all of it!

	"Besides, I'll have you know that I had already planned to give the
new you a lovely voice with a range that's akin to Barbra Streisand's!  You
know, so you'll be able sing practically any sort of thing you want!"

	"You can do that?  You can actually do something like that?  You
can give me a voice that's, shall we say, to die for?"

	"I sure can!"

	"That's fantastic!  Simply fantastic!"

	"However, if you don't mind my suggestions, I think you ought start
off with a whole new repertoire of songs at first.  Then, after awhile, if
you want, you can always begin to slowly incorporate some of your own songs
into your sets.

	"Oh, and since you can't very well use you old instruments, you
might want to see about picking up an autoharp and maybe even a lap
dulcimer.  Then, once you've more or less establish yourself as an up and
coming folksinger on the local scene, you can always reintroduce your old
instruments; saying, in one fashion or another, that you had the good
fortune to have purchased them from Josh Oats' mother..."

	"My, my!" Josh said.  "You really have given this upcoming
feminization of mine a lot of forethought, haven't you?"

	"I most certainly have.  I have been hoping, praying and planning
for this for a long, long time and, while I know that I have probably
overlooked a few things, I do believe I've got most of the bases covered."

	"Well, it sure as hell seems to me like you have."

	"Trust me, Josh!  Believe me, you're in good hands!"

	"I know I am, Bits!  I know I am..."


* * *


	The next morning, at breakfast, Josh, with Bitsy there to add her
support, informed