"I remember quite clearly the first girl I ever kissed. I was very young and inexperienced, no older than 13. No younger than 13 either. In fact, I was 13.

She was a very self-assured woman, slightly older, around 16. She wore confidence like a dress, and she wore her dress like a dress, so it was like she was wearing two dresses, but both matched her rose-colored shoes.

Her hair was long and feathery, golden, not real gold but just blonde, though calling it 'golden' makes it sound more poetic, I like to think. Her lips were fat, naturally so, not like mine that were still fat from that playground fight with the ugly kid a day before. No, her lips were beautiful, like sweet candy wax lips and you wanted to taste but not eat because that would be disgusting.

'Do you want to kiss me?' she asked. I'm no fool, so I told her I did, though I was very nervous.

I could tell she was very reluctant, wearing a shy smile and a twinkling sparkle in her eye as she tried to play all normal about it. And, kiddies, that li'l devil I was, that 13-year-old Sampson L. Hartwig, I leaned in and planted the most fantastic kiss on her lips.

'That's an extra dollar,' she reminded me, but it was worth every penny as she put her clothes back on while I watched to make sure no flatfeet cops were cruising by."

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