by J. Robert Griffin © 2002

What are you going to do with that? I asked, lying helplessly on my freshly mowed lawn. William glanced over the front of the cinder block he held over my head. My jaw ached from where he had just punched me, which was how I ended up on the ground in the first place.

The same thing you did with my girlfriend. I'm gonna bang you up real good, you lowlife bastard.

Now wait, Will. Nothing happened between us. The brick began an ominous descent, and I threw my hands up in a feeble effort to shield my face. Through one half-opened eye I saw that he had not released his grip.

What do you mean? he growled. You just confessed the whole thing to me, how you came over when I was gone and had yourself a real good time with Marcia.

I know, I know, Will. Let me explain. He grunted, but the brick did not fall. You see, I had to make you angry, and I knew that was the easiest way. I never slept with Marcia, man. I wouldn't do that to you.

You're just trying to save your life now.

No, I swear on my mother's grave.

Then, why? He drew the cinder block close to his chest so that I could see his face completely.

So I could write a story about it. I spent the next four days in the hospital.

x x x

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