I was recently catalyzed to remember, I know not by what, a weird boy I had met when we first moved to the woods. His family lived in a bit of a cabin — as distinguished from a home by its rustic innards and outards — and the parents didn't have the common social graces to which I was accustomed. One day when we were there alone after school he attempted some manner of handsy dry-humping maneuver on me, which I found unacceptable, and I informed him of this. (I wasn't much practiced in physically pushing people, but push I did, and it must have been successful, because I am not to this day his cabin sex-slave.) Then we went to play in the creek of their holler, because I was stuck there another hour or so until my mom showed up, and he kept making himself fall in the water as a way to apologize for upsetting me with his mock-copulation.
He eventually became a hick (what we called rednecks), then a Mormon, and now is one of those people who isn't on the Internet. Everybody else like him is on the Internet, though, so it seems an odd absence. Maybe he died.