The way his braces gleamed in the sunlight almost had a majestic look that only the Gods could create. I wish he would let me lick the nacho cheese leftover from last nights dinner off his bottom lip. If he only knew my true feelings...I know it's wrong, but I can't help. He's been my only companion since as long as I can remember and somewhere along the line, a sort of Flowers in the Attic type of feeling must have came ("came" heh heh heheh) over me.

"Hey, Butthead. Hmm hmm heh," I said, only to hear his sweet, nasally voice.

"What, buttmunch," he asked me, not taking his attention off the infomercial.

"Give me the remote. hmm hmm heh," I demanded, even though I already knew the answer.

"No way, fartknocker. Uh huh huhhuh. Get your own," he replied, finishing off the last sour cream and salsa pork rind.

"Come on, asswipe," I said but didn't mean. "You always get to pick what we watch. hmm hmm heheheheh heh heh."

"That's because you always pick shows that suck. Now shut up before I kick your ass. Uh huh huh huhhuh," he replied, scratching his nads. I only wish he would scratch my nads.

Normally, I loved egging him on. He would slap me or we would get into a wrestling match...Anything for him just to touch me. But something was different that day, so I let it be.

Sometimes my lust for him got so bad, I would have to go to the bathroom and spank my monkey. Sometimes he would ask what took me so long and I would tell him I was taking a dump. His reply, "Uh huh huh huhhuh. Cool! Uhhuhhuh huhuh huh,". That day was different; everything on t.v. sucked, we didn't have any porno mags, and obviously we weren't in school. My lust was getting out of control. Every time he called me a "buttmunch" I could picture myself literally nose deep in his bunghole.

I finally worked up the courage to ask what I had been wanting to ask for the last eight years, but not without the influence of my friend Jack Daniels I scored from Todd.

"Hey, Butthead," I asked, a little shake in my voice.

"What is it now, ass-goblin," Butthead asked.

"Does it count as scoring if you do it with a guy?"

Butthead paused for a second, then turned to look at me for the first time that day. I could see almost a serene look in his eye. I, of course, could feel my face flushing out and a single bead of cold sweat went down my spine.

"Uuuuh, I guess. Uh huh huhhuh huh huh," he said, turning back to the t.v.

A silent sigh of relief went through me for a second, but I tensed back up because now I was going to ask the other question I had been waiting to ask for many years.

"So uh, you wanna like... I don't know," the last two words came out as a scream. "...DO IT!"

Butthead didn't turn away from the t.v. for almost three minutes. He looked completely blank; calm, cool, and collected. I, on the other hand, could very well have thrown up those nachos I had eaten last night.

Butthead, finally turned his head (which seemed to be in slow motion), and let out two words:

"Uuuh. Ok. Uh huhhuh huh."

So we went into the bedroom and made sweet, butthole love.