Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER THREE: THE STATE CONTEST

Previously: Alex, a college student from Wisconsin, was accepted into the Little Big Man Contest, ostensibly a pageant-like event offering scholarships to men of small stature. He was nervous about his acceptance, worried that his father (a reference) would reveal that Alex accidentally killed his brother Adam in a hit-and-run accident. Later, Alex had an odd and humiliating physical exam and discovered that his new friend, Matti, a diving competitor from Minnesota, was also a contestant. Alex is now approaching his state contest.

Dmitri, one of the Russian organizers of Little Big Man (which is far from what it seems) is in the American Midwest, running 13 state contests. He discussed that contestants are categorized as viable' or non-viable': To be viable, they need to have a poor family relationship and identify as straight but have a Latent Homosexuality Index of 25-60% (data which was collected during the physical exam). The LHI, Dmitri says, can be dramatically increased in an all-male environment. And `placing our state winners in an all-male environment is exactly what we intend to do'.

In October, months after these events, Alex is writing the story at the direction of Dmitri, with whom he then lives and calls Master'. Dmitri refers to him as Alexei'. The dates that appear below are the dates of the events as Alex experienced them, not the dates he is writing about them.

ALEX: FRIDAY, MAY 6, MORNING – WISCONSIN

I felt an odd mixture of excitement, energy, foolishness and embarrassment as I left campus this morning. I had to miss two classes and will have to get notes from Sean or Sophie. I told them I had to go to a wedding, same story I told Coach. There was a meet today – home against Parkland – and he was pissed. But I told him I'm an usher, I have to go. He gave me a dirty look but acquiesced.

I packed toiletries and a change of clothing, as we would be staying overnight, and they picked me up at 7:30. The driver wasn't chatty, so I used the time to read some of the Nietzsche I was slogging through for European Philosophy. We took US 53 down to Eau Claire, where we picked up another contestant, Flynn Michaels, who looked like he outweighed me by a good twenty pounds, all of it muscle. Conversation was a bit of a mismatch – he seemed singularly uninformed about politics, my small-talk mainstay. He was a Phys. Ed. major (duh) and, yes, he was on the wrestling team. He had that kind of build. I tried to size him up as competition: Did they want brains or brawn? I immodestly gave myself the advantage in the former department, but he was way ahead of me if they wanted a muscle stud. After about ten minutes of attempts at chitchat, I went back to Nietzsche. He went back to Candy Crush.

DMITRI: FRIDAY, 6 MAY, MORNING – MADISON, WISCONSIN

I arrived at the theater at about ten. Other than the boys, everything that needed to be there was there, including Mike, the ostensible director. The judges wouldn't show up until about two and the emcee not until that evening. Tom McCord had worked for us for the past three years (utterly cluelessly) and didn't need to rehearse. The boys might have wanted to rehearse with him, but we didn't want to look over-produced. A little awkward ness would give us a veneer of credibility.

The shower trailer was parked around the corner. I inspected it – all in order – then went to the van with the electronics. That's where I found Ramses Crawford, my right-hand man for these four weeks of state contests. We reviewed his checklist and then I started reviewing the contestant profiles.

That morning was actually the first time I even discovered who the 25 contestants were. I could have found out earlier – in fact, I'd been sent the file, just hadn't opened it. Part of the reason was that I totally trusted Sergei's algorithm to make excellent selections. The other part was that I didn't want to become jaded. I wanted some suspense, not knowing long in advance which of these boys might be voyaging to the boat on the June day that would change their lives. So I never open the contestant files until the morning of the events themselves.

The file was separated into two sections, viable', and nonviable'. The algorithm always made sure there were enough viable contestants to make a true contest of it, and then filled out the rest of the field with disqualified stock that was pleasing eye candy. Relatively few applicants were actually plausible winners – one absolute requirement was a strained family relationship, and a disappointing large proportion of the applicants came from stable homes. And of course a low LHI ruled out several.

Today there were nine potential winners. I pulled out their files and studied them. Not too intently – the choice would not be mine alone to make. But I wanted to be comfortable with all nine, and see if there were any on whom I would exercise my veto power.

ALEX: FRIDAY, MAY 6, EARLY AFTERNOON – MADISON, WISCONSIN

Flynn and I entered the theater and took in the scene: fellow contestants milling around on stage while other men, mostly older, were onstage moving things about. A tall blond guy about thirty-five, strolled up the aisle and extended a hand. I sized him up as probably gay.

• Mike Pulaski, the director. You're the last to arrive – who's the guy from Superior?

• That would be me.

• Yes, well you've had the longest trip, haven't you. One of the stage hands will take your bags backstage. Do you need a pit stop or can we get started right away?

We both indicated we were good, and joined the others on stage, where Mike talked us through the day. There was nothing fancy about the stagecraft – no production numbers, so we didn't need to rehearse much. In fact, we wouldn't even meet the emcee ahead of the actual event – it would keep things 'fresh and spontaneous'. (Or clumsy and chaotic?) Later in the afternoon we'd interview with the judges. This would take us to about five o'clock, when we'd have dinner, freshen up' and get ready for the event', which started at eight.

The `event' was to go like this: There would be three initial rounds of competition: Tuxedo (Physical Appearance), Academics, and Speedo (Fitness). After each round there was a cut, based solely on your score in that category. Then all the scores would be combined, including interviews, and the final five faced an individual question like in the beauty pageants. Would this be utterly degrading and humiliating? Probably. Could I put up with utterly degrading and humiliating for three hundred fifty dollars in cold cash? You bet your ass.

The set was pretty simple – there was a large screen upstage to project stuff onto, and mirrored flats along the sides. But what dominated the stage was the circular platform, about ten feet across, downstage center. That was where we would `present ourselves' to the judges and the audience.

As Mike explained it, women in beauty pageants did all that provocative posing – that wasn't for us. We were more dignified than that. Sex appeal came from confidence, not from flaunting our bodies. We'd all use the same poses – one for Tuxedo and one for Speedo. Just hit your mark and stand there while the platform revolved. He didn't add `to give the judges a good look at your butts' but that's what it amounted to.

One by one, we practiced walking up onto the platform and posing. The first run-through, for Tuxedo, was kind of comical. We were just ordinary guys, not professional contest entrants, and the styles ranged from jock stud swagger to awkward nerd shuffling. Mike tamped down the showy and encouraged the timid; a second go-round looked more natural and relaxed. The third go-round, when we practiced the Speedo position, got better, but the pose exposed some underarm shirt stains, prompting a few wisecracks.

Mike joined in with a sympathetic laugh.

• Good thing you won't be wearing shirts for this. (Smile.)

We took a half-hour break for restrooms and snacks – and then it was on to the interviews.

DMITRI: FRIDAY, 6 MAY, AFTERNOON – MADISON, WISCONSIN

In the van, I looked at the potential winners. Just their headshots – not the nude pictures from their physicals. Not yet.

My colleagues and I each had a favorite `type', but we'd made a pledge not to let that influence us in the determination of results. Nevertheless, I couldn't help sorting them out in my mind, thinking ahead.

There were nine viable entrants – Bryson Allen, Kyle Demarest, Nathan Glendenning, Zachary Kislowski, Flynn Michaels, Emilio Perez, Alex Sorenson, Jameel Winters, Erik Yong.

For Yuri: Michaels, a well-developed wrestler. For Sergei, who liked Latinos and Asians: Perez and Yong. For Boris, a pair of blacks: Winters and Allen. Glendenning had the best face, and would definitely be attractive to clients.

And for me, two blonds: Kislowski and Sorenson. One was a dancer, the other a diver: They might look pretty good in a Speedo (in case you couldn't guess, my favorite part of the competition).

All nine, I knew, would survive the initial cut. After that, it was anybody's guess what would happen. But one of those nine was guaranteed to become Wisconsin's Little Big Man.

ALEX: FRIDAY, MAY 6, AFTERNOON – MADISON, WISCONSIN

We had four interviews, one on each category with a different judge. The interviews were ten minutes apiece, but were spread out over two hours because there were 25 of us and only ten judges, two of which were men but my interviews were all with women.

The first, a fiftyish woman who reminded me of Dr. Haddad's receptionist, covered Physical Appearance. You wouldn't have thought that was much of an interview subject. Wrong. What were my best and worst features, what did I think made men the most attractive to women, what kind of compliments had I gotten (I blushingly told her of my `cute butt') . . . the ten minutes flew.

The second, who looked like a fashion model barely older than me, played against stereotype and covered Academics – my best and worst subjects, career goals, what was most exciting about my favorite course – a breeze. The third (corporate type in her forties) focused on Fitness so my diving got a lot of mention. And the last (another hot blonde but at least thirty), had the dreaded Character focus, but the questions stuck to cultural and political issues – nothing that would force me to spill the beans about Adam or lie to cover it up.

DMITRI: The interviews were bullshit. The judges entered their scores into the computer – and Sergei's clever little program promptly ignored them. Not that the judges would ever figure that out.

ALEX: FRIDAY, MAY 6, LATE AFTERNOON – MADISON, WISCONSIN

They laid out a generous buffet for us, but, feeling puckish but not overly hungry, I ate judiciously. And then came the odd moment of the day – what Mike had referred to as the `freshen up'.

• (Mike) Okay, guys. I know you all want to look and feel your best, and after all of this running around you may feel a little sweaty, so we've provided showers. They're in a trailer out on Wellington St., just around the corner to your right. We do ask you to shower, even if you feel you don't need it. You'll feel cleaner, you'll BE cleaner, you'll smell better –

• (some wag) Hey, there's hope for you, Gideon.

• (cackles)

• (Mike) . . . and your skin will look better for that vitally important Speedo round. There are nine showers, which means we need to do three shifts of eight or nine each.

I went in the last batch, the group of nine. We entered along the side of the long trailer, just behind the cab, into a changing area; to our left was a glass partition with a door-shaped opening in the middle. There was a tiled surface about a foot wide and then a four-inch step down to where the showers were. The four-inch drop was to keep the water from flowing into the changing area. The changing area was quite small for nine guys. There was an attendant, a handsome man about six feet tall, probably his late thirties with dark hair, sunglasses, a well-trimmed beard, wearing a shirt whose loose top button suggested a well-developed chest, jeans, sneakers, and a beret. He said not a word, just pointed to the dressing area – or rather, undressing area.

I wasn't shy. I'd been in locker rooms my whole life. I stripped quickly, then proceeded to the showers, which were close enough that most of us bumped elbows, if not hips, with the next guy. Awkward for straight guys like us. Everyone had a good body, some of them hairy, some smooth-chested. And, though one tried not to peek, some guys were better endowed than me.

We had to leave the shower area to get towels from the attendant, then dried ourselves in the small changing area. I was one of the last to leave the trailer, handing my towel to the helpful attendant as I left. He had parting gifts: a stick of deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste. The attendant must have been watching us as we peeled off our clothing – at least our shirts – as he also offered a razor to guys who had not shaved their pits. He didn't say a word, just raised his arm and illustrated with the razor what it was for. He didn't offer me one, so I assumed he noticed that I kept my pits – and most of my body – shaved for diving. The attendant said not a word the entire time, as if he was mute.

DMITRI: Yes, I was the attendant. Quite in disguise – I have no beard and wouldn't be caught in public wearing a beret. And yes, I noticed who hadn't shaved their underarms. I noticed a lot more. Good thing I kept a towel on my lap.

Obviously, I'm not mute, but I do have an accent. I didn't want to give that away now, did I?

ALEX: FRIDAY, MAY 6, EVENING – MADISON, WISCONSIN

I talked to some of the guys in the nervous hour before the event started. Two in particular: a Ripon Pre-Med major named Zach Kislowski, and a Marquette student named Emilio Perez.

Both Zach and Emilio had father issues like I did; I was surprised to find this level of honesty in a casual conversation, but they were quite open about it. Zach said one reason he had entered the contest was to "give me some independence from my old man"; he felt pressure to be the surgeon his father was, while Zach wanted to be a professional dancer. ("And yes, I'm straight," he added immediately.) Emilio's father sounded downright scary; I suspected that physical abuse had reared its ugly head at some point.

We changed into our tuxes and then came the call: "Positions." We lined up alphabetically backstage while the emcee, a man named Thomas McCord, addressed the crowd in a low-key manner. He didn't talk long before it was time to go. I was almost at the end and made my practiced walk, stepping up on the platform, hands and hips, while McCord introduced me:

• Alex Sorenson, University of Wisconsin at Superior. Alex is a junior majoring in World Studies. He's five-foot-six, weighs one hundred thirty-six pounds, and is a member of the diving team.

Jeez, how very like the Miss America pageant.

There were just two more guys – "Jameel Winters, University of Wisconsin Green Bay" and "Erik Yong, Carroll University" and then the Tuxedo competition was over. We waited in the wings while the judges tabulated the results. They filled the time with a feature on Drake Belsen, last year's `America's Little Big Man' from Georgia. It didn't add much to what I had seen on the Little Big Man website. There wasn't even an interview – you saw him at home and at school, but you never heard him talk; there was just a Morgan Freemanesque voice-over.

DMITRI: The film, of course, didn't interview Drake' because Drake' doesn't even speak English. Fortunately, his home could pass for the inside of an American home, so no one was the wiser. As for the `tabulation of results': Sergei's software chose the nine viable candidates and the six others whom the judges had scored highest. We had to give them that – if they compared notes later and saw that they'd rated Philip K. Dickbreath as their top pick, and Dickbreath didn't even make the top fifteen, they'd smell a rat.

ALEX: The first name called was none other than Flynn Michaels, the uninformed – or at least uninterested - wrestler from Eau Claire that I rode down with. Well, Flynn did model a tux nicely. Emilio and Zach were both in the first six named – good going, guys – and soon followed by both Winters and Yong. My confidence waned as more names passed. But, with only two spots left – ta-daaaa! – "Alex Sorenson"!

Yes! I made the cut! Probably not near the top, but there was no carryover of scores to the next round, Academics – hopefully a strength. Hopefully. But was it really? Zach is Pre-Med, son of a surgeon. Gotta be one smart cookie. Maybe the other dudes were just as smart. Maybe even Flynn was smart and just disguising it well.

The Academic component was like nothing I'd ever seen in a pageant. They brought in fifteen chairs, arranged them in a semi-circle, and gave us all tablets. Quoth Thomas McCord:

• Here's how the Academic Competition works: We ask the contestants three multiple choice questions, which they'll answer on their tablets. The ten with the highest scores will advance. Ties will be broken by looking at total time of response, so answer quickly, gentlemen.

He invited one of the judges to select a question from about fifteen envelopes offered. She did, and returned to her seat. The emcee continued.

• Okay, gentlemen, the category is Science, and here is your question. The field of Organic Chemistry centers on compounds containing which of these elements? A. Carbon. B. Hydrogen. C. Nitrogen. D. Oxygen. Gentlemen, enter your answers, please.

Well, that was easy – carbon, but I figured most guys would know this. I immediately pressed A.

• Well, our computer tells us that fourteen of you answered correctly, but of course I'm not going to tell you which of you missed it. (Coy smile.)

My money was on Flynn Michaels, but maybe that was unkind of me. The next judge, one of the men, selected Geography. Excellent, one of my strengths.

• What is the capital of North Macedonia? Is it A. Ljubljana, B. Skopje, C. Thessaloniki, or D. Tirana?

The sneaky wrong answer was Thessaloniki (Salonika), a major city in ancient Macedonia. Today, it's in modern Greece. This one, I knew, was Skopje, and I pressed B.

• Well, Gentlemen, I see that eight of you have answered both questions correctly, so if you answer the third question correctly, you will automatically move on to the Fitness round. If more than ten of you have two out of three correct, remember we'll break ties by total time of response.

The next topic selected was Philosophy, and I felt almost giddy. European Philosophy now, Eastern Philosophy a year ago, I should know this.

• Who is known for his ideas concerning the relationship between morality and reason, as exemplified in his classic work The Critique of Pure Reason, published in 1788? Was it A. Ralph Waldo Emerson, B. David Hume, C. Immanuel Kant, or D. John Locke?

Holy shit! I'd just written a paper on this book two months ago. It was Kant. I pressed `C' triumphantly, certain I would go on to the next round. Which I did.

DMITRI: The Academic Round was actually legit. Having ensured that all nine `viable' candidates would advance into the Academic Round, we were mathematically guaranteed that four or more would survive it. We lost three of our nine, exactly proportionate: Bryson Allen, Kyle Demarest and Flynn Michael, the one young man who would have made Yuri salivate. The other six – Glendenning, Kislowski, Perez, Sorenson, Winters and Yong – had moved on. And two of them were blonds. . .

But it was the next round – the Speedo round – that would crown the winner. Or so I had assumed.

ALEX: Zach and Emilio both made the cut but – gosh – Flynn Michaels didn't. What a surprise it wasn't. All things aside, I was relieved, because Flynn would absolutely kill in a Speedo.

Mike told us to select a pair of trunks from one of several tubs – as we were all under five-eight and physically fit, there was no need for a wide variety of sizes. There were, however, a variety of patterns. Jameel Winters chose a bright orange-and-red zig-zaggy thing that looked brilliant against his mahogany skin. Zach took a muted blue with some light gray curvy vertical stripes. Emilio chose a pure white speedo – a daring choice I wouldn't have made, but with his deep tan it looked great on him.

Me? I stuck to a conservative solid navy, like I wore in diving meets.

Among the ten of us – aside from our skin color – one distinguishing characteristic was body hair. I keep myself absolutely smooth from neck to toe (other than my pubes), as most divers do. So, `dressed' in my Speedo, there was not a visible hair on my body.

Zach, on the other hand, was a veritable fur coat. His chest was covered with hair, and a thick trail led down his stomach to his pubes. At least he'd shaved his pits. One of the guys, a swarthy-looking fellow named Angelo Michelini, hadn't. I didn't think that was smart, but you never knew.

I tucked myself in and made the Speedo as tight as I could without it constricting my balls. I didn't want my cock to show – but I wanted to show that I had a cock. Display the package, but don't let them see the outline of your dong.

We lined up in the order in which they had called our names, which meant I was sixth, following Angelo and before Nate Glendenning, who was from Beloit – the school I had wanted to go to but couldn't afford. Nate had sharp features but cool blue eyes that always looked great on a black-haired guy. And a butt at least as `cute' as mine. I would have called him competition, except I didn't think I had a chance.

The music track played Beach Boys (what else?) as, one by one, we took our stroll down front. There were butterflies in my stomach as I saw Angelo begin to make his exit and knew I had to begin my walk. I looked at him and saw he was not sharing my anxiety; even though he had finished his pose and had no reason to affect any kind of emotion, his face bore an expression of pure joy. He was having fun. Dammit, he had the right idea. I relaxed and decided to have fun with it.

I won't say I strutted down the walkway, or danced or anything like that, but there was definitely a bounce in my step, and I walked to the rhythm of the beat. Somehow the music took over and I felt oddly liberated. I thought, `Yeah. Angelo, you've got it absolutely right! This is fucking fun! This is Short Guy Liberation. We too can be as sexy as those six-two studs that always get the lead parts in movies.'

I got to the platform and took the pose – hands behind your head, as if surrendering to the police. It meant your arms were on display – and your pits, which is why I wondered if going au naturel in the pit area was a good move for Angelo. Then the platform revolved so that the judges could check you out from all sides.

I thought my best assets were my butt and the fact that I had a nice clean line – like I wanted my dives to have. My chest had good musculature, it just wasn't showy. Emilio now, there was a dude who spent some time lifting weights. The more I thought about it, the more I thought Emilio was going to win this. Him or Nate Glendenning. Or maybe – just maybe – Angelo (if those women judges liked hairy pits).

When we finished, we formed a semi-circle as we awaited the results. Would this be where my night ended?

DMITRI: This is where I would put my hand in. I will choose four of the five finalists, and allow the judges their top pick for the last one. Because this is where the rubber hits the road. I've got to see their bodies. All of their bodies. Of course, I have cast my eye over them earlier, when they showered, but there were a lot of guys in there, and it wasn't always possible to focus on the viable nine.

From my console in the trailer, I watched each of the ten semi-finalists walk down nearly nude and slowly revolve. But simultaneous to the images that Ramses was feeding me of the boys in their Speedos, offering delicious views of their nubile young bodies, I was viewing an array of images of those same lads without their Speedos.

Yes, the nude pictures taken during their so-called physicals.

There were actually two objectives of the `physical exam' administered to the contestants. The first objective was the nude body shots. That was essential. I needed their cock shot, I needed their ass shot, and I wanted their profiles: I loved the view of a shapely ass seen from the side. I always held back looking at the nude shots until the Speedo competition – I didn't want to be tormented by an absolutely perfect body only to have that young man fail to advance past the Academic Round. Or worse, be some non-viable kid we could never take on the boat. No, the only boys I wanted to see nude were those who had a chance to win.

The second objective of the physical exams was the Latent Homosexuality Index. Part of the LHI we got from the blood tests, but much of it comes from the film. Embedded in that film were subliminal images of nude men and of men having sex with each other. They passed so quickly that the conscious mind didn't register them. But the eye saw them and communicated them to the brain. And when they occurred – particularly when in quick succession – the body can be stimulated. The pulse quickens a fraction, the pupil of the eye expands a tiny amount, and, yes, blood rushes to the penis at a marginally faster rate. Not enough for an erection but enough for us to tell which of our subjects has an instinct toward homosexuality and, in conjunction with their genetic analysis, calculate their approximate LHI.

We had six remaining viable candidates. The four who look best in the nude will get into the final five. With luck, the judges' choice will be one of the other two.

Then I can have my cake and eat it too.

I watched them all, those beautiful boys wearing next to nothing, and those beautiful boys wearing nothing at all. I made my choices, entered it into the console, and sent it to Ramses.

ALEX:

• The five finalists, in random order, are: (dramatic pause) From Beloit College – Nathan Glendenning.

Applause, applause. No surprise, he had that great face.

• From the University of Wisconsin Green Bay – Jameel Winters.

Okay, fair enough.

• From Marquette University – Emilio Perez.

I mentally (but only mentally) raised my fist in the air and pumped it. Yes, go Emilio!

• From the University of Wisconsin Madison – Amir Patel.

Hmmm, Amir was the shortest of the ten of us, and I hadn't given him much thought. I hadn't noticed him stripped down to his Speedo, but now that he stood forward to take his place among the finalists, I could see why the women liked him, even if he was just five three.

• And finally –

Come on, I thought. Zach. Zach, please. I was expecting Angelo but maybe those hairy pits had disqualified him. Or maybe another surprise like Amir.

• From the University of Wisconsin Superior –

What???

• Alex Sorenson.

Holy shit! I'd made the top five! I'd actually beaten Zach and Angelo in the speedo competition! My cute butt had come through for me in the end – pun intended.

DMITRI: Patel. Nice choice, judges, a shapely ass. But he was not viable – he had a low LHI and his parents were wealthy immigrants who came to see him compete. But it is good that he made the top five. He won't win, but it will give the judges confidence that they actually have some control over this thing.

Ramses sent me the judges' scores. Patel was second in their eyes. My boys were first (Perez), third (Glendenning), fourth (Sorenson) and seventh (Winters). Not the way I would have scored them. But, interestingly, they would have chosen three out of the four boys that I selected. So they will remain duped into thinking it was their decision after all.

But I don't know who's going to win; I don't have complete control over that. Not that I want total control – where's the fun in that? Why bother to have a competition if there isn't some suspense? We just have to prevent an undesirable outcome.

There are five components that determine the outcome, adding up to a total of 220 points distributed among the five finalists.

The first is the vote on the final round, the Character round, where the boys answer a stupid question we've dreamed up for them. I get to score the contestants on this, and my vote counts the equivalent of three judges. So I can stack the deck a little but not enough to outweigh a solid judges' panel. 15 points will then be awarded to the lad who scores highest, 10 to the second highest, then 7, 5, and 3 points – a total of 40 points.

The second is the judges' aggregate score in the other three categories, with the Academic component calculated from the number and speed of correct answers. Again, 40 points, awarded on a 15-10-7-5-3 basis.

The third is based on Sergei's algorithm. It includes hard data like grade point averages and SAT scores, psychological data derived from analysis of their questionnaires, and even things gleaned from their nude photos like the measurements of their cocks and an empirical measurement of the roundness of their buttocks. As the differences here are often less pronounced, this is awarded points on a 10-8-6-4-2 scale, or 30 points in total.

The fourth is the latent homosexuality index, or LHI. This element is so important it gets more weight than any other – 60 points. But instead of being awarded by rank, they are prorated among the 60 points in proportion to their LHI after 25 points have been deducted, and then rounded to the nearest hundredth – which helps avoid ties.

The final component is my score. I rank the young men based on anything I goddamn please, and can distribute 50 points in any fashion I choose, as long as no contestant is given more than 30. This gives me considerable, but far from absolute, power.

Should the unthinkable occur, and the non-viable Amir emerge with the most points, the computer will move him down and elevate the second-placed lad. But that has never occurred in the three years we've been using this formula.

I used to submit my final score before waiting for the Question-and-Answer round. Last year, however, when I had the South, my top choice in Louisiana's Little Big Man gave such a foul, homophobic response to the final question that I wanted to kick his ass all the way from New Orleans to Shreveport. Fortunately, he so offended the judges that their low scores took away the victory I would have awarded him. The little shit. (Curiously, a few days later, he happened to encounter four tough guys in an alleyway. Hospital time ensued and I do believe he surrendered his virtue. Four times.) So now I wait until the boys have answered their question before I submit my rankings.

Besides, I'm quite undecided among three of them – Winters won't be my pick and Patel is out. But Glendenning, Perez, and Sorenson – all delectable. And I can't make up my mind. Maybe one of them will do something to impress me in the final round. Or at least give a really sexy smile.

ALEX: As Zach, Angelo and the others made their way disappointedly offstage, I looked over the five of us who remained and thought you couldn't have asked for a more diverse selection: an African-American, a Latino, a South Asian, a Scandinavian mongrel and whatever Nate was – Glendenning was probably Black Irish or something like that. (I googled it later – the name is Welsh.)

The next phase, I knew, involved answering questions individually. Would we have to do that in just a Speedo?

Not quite. Stage hands draped us each with a long, white bathrobe, plush and luxurious – it felt wonderful around my bare skin. Underneath, of course, I was still nearly nude, and my feet were still bare, but I felt cosseted and comfy in that bathrobe.

• Now, gentlemen, we are down to the last phase of the competition, the Character round. Your score from this round will be combined with your scores from the other three areas in order to determine the winner. Your total will include not only your scores from the event tonight, but from your interviews this afternoon and from preliminary scores assessed from your application.

[DMITRI: Well, that's what McCord and the judges thought. You of course know differently.]

• In this round, you will answer a single question on a topical issue. You may have all seen similar events in some televised events for women, in which the contestants are given all of fifteen seconds to answer. Tell you what – we won't time you. Talk as long as you feel is necessary. Don't prattle on for too long or the judges may hold it against you – and personally, I'd like to get back to my hotel before midnight.

• (chuckles from audience)

• Once again, we'll have our judges select a question randomly from this box. We'll go in reverse order this time and start with Alex Sorenson. Could you step up here, Alex?

Uh. Sure. They'd always done things in the same order as we were announced, so I was expecting to go last. Oh, well, here goes.

Mentally I was sorting through the prominent social issues of the day, like a recent controversial Supreme Court case, wondering how careful I needed to be so as not to offend anybody. I was pretty sure they'd ask a difficult question, and I hoped and prayed they wouldn't throw me something I couldn't handle.

And then they hit me with this:

• Could you tell us why you entered the Little Big Man competition and what it means to you.

Were they fucking NUTS? They'd eliminated guys who didn't know the capital of North Macedonia and now they toss me the most idiotic meta navel-gazing question of all time? Was I supposed to say how I wanted to use my talents to promote world peace and feed the starving children?

No, of course not, Alex, you're better than that. And then it ran through my mind that I had probably gotten here in the first place because I'd been honest enough to list my father as a reference. And that the best thing to say might just be the truth.

• Well, I entered the contest for the money, basically.

I expected to hear a gasp but what I got in response was a laugh that started with chuckles and then, after I grinned a little sheepishly, the laughter built gradually until eventually several members of the audience actually wound up clapping.

• I'm sorry if that sounds mercenary, but the money is what caught my eye. Twenty-five thousand dollars won't pay for my degree but it will go a long way toward reducing my long-term debt. And, frankly, I'm so poor that the three-fifty we get for being here tonight will help me get through this month. So that was the first thing. And then – boom – there was that trip around the world. Man, would I like to do that. I'm a World Studies major – and I've never even been out of the fuh – out of the country.

Another sheepish grin and more laughter. They loved that I almost said "I've never been out of the fucking country".

• I want to see the Colosseum and the pyramids and the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall. So travel was the second thing. Until tonight, I thought that was the only reason. But I tell you, now that I've been here, there's something else. I was about to walk up the ramp to do my pose for the – this thing –

And here I flashed open my bathrobe to show everyone I was talking about the Speedo competition.

• And I was nervous, as most of us were, and I was watching the guy ahead of me – I'm sorry he didn't make the finals but I have to salute him, his name is Angelo Michelini, and he was almost – ALMOST – dancing as he walked down. And when he came back after doing the – this thing –

I put my hands behind my neck to demonstrate the pose –

• He looked so goddamned happy.

Oops, it slipped out this time. Oh, what the fuck. But I could hear chuckles. Maybe the audience likes this.

• And I realized – hey, this is fun! You know what, here we are, twenty-five shrimps - and we're all great. We're all great. We're having a good time and we're strutting our stuff and I'm thinking, `Yo! Short Dudes Rule!' I don't know if you know this, but that's the slogan on the Little Big Man website: Short Dudes Rule. And right now, that's what I'm thinking. Let's celebrate being short. Whoever wins tonight – I'm sure it won't be me, but even if it is – whoever wins will be someone to look up to. Maybe not in the literal sense . . .

• (Laughter.)

• But in every other way. So Yes! Short Dudes Rule! Let's show them who we are and what we can do.

Pause. And then – in a lower, mock-serious voice (I was having fun now):

• And I'd like to thank all the little people who made this night possible.

Brought down the house. Absolutely brought down the house. And at that moment I knew it wasn't hopeless. I knew I had a shot at this. I had won over that house with that ridiculous but no-bullshit speech.

So that when, a moment later, Amir got asked about that controversial Supreme Court case, I almost felt sorry for him.

I heard the other questions – one about the second amendment, one about the President using social media – but I never really heard the responses very clearly. I was on a cloud floating above the arena, feeling absolutely giddy and hoping it wasn't showing too much.

I felt totally liberated. Totally human. Totally joyous. And I didn't care who won.

Oh, by the way: I won.

That's right – I won.

I. Me. Alex Sorenson.

I am Wisconsin's Little Fucking Big Man.

DMITRI: After the Speedo round, I mentally placed Perez third. To my eye he wasn't quite as beautiful as Glendenning or Sorenson and they had rounder butts. I knew it was between the two of them.

And Sorenson looked sooooo sexy in his Speedo. Nude it was a coin toss.

Before submitting my vote, I looked at Sergei's data. Sorenson's LHI was the highest of all the finalists and he trailed Glendenning only in the Tuxedo competition.

So Sorenson it is; I gave him my maximum 30 points and the other 20 to Patel, who couldn't win. Glendenning didn't deserve to get a 0, but it would be enough to keep him from winning, and I really wanted it to be Sorenson.

The real winner tonight was Perez, who wound up nudging out Glendenning for second. We made a surprise announcement giving the second-place finisher a $500 bonus, which is $500 more than Sorenson will ever see. Actually, $850 more than Sorenson will ever see, because he'll never get the appearance fee either.

But Sorenson will see some things that Perez will never see, when he boards the boat in June.

But they won't be what he's expecting to see.

ALEX: Okay, all together now: I feel pretty, oh so pretty . . .