[When my main muchacho Lance and his anodized pal Leeroy agreed with "The Stranger" as this week's song selection, I was so in I was nearly behind Lance as he poured his sweet tea this morning. This story is called "Right Cross"]
"I don't even know you when you're like this," she said. I clenched my fists.
"Like what?," I said, trying to sound calm.
"Like this," she said. "Why are you so angry? He was just flirting with me!"
She didn't understand. It was disrespectful. I was standing there, and this suit puts his hand on her perfectly tanned forearm. I had to hit him. I couldn't do anything else and still live with myself.
"What makes you like this?," she said.
I couldn't think of anything that made sense, so I didn't say anything.