AN EXCERPT FROM A STORY ENTITLED
"BAR ROOM ETIQUETTE"
BY BARRETT CRARY
I was of a mind in those days that you had just better kill me cause I had been beaten by better. Bullies and police and Mokes and rednecks, bikers, and football stars. Gangs of em. But I always put the hurt to at least one or two of them even if I was beat senseless and walking down the road talking to myself. I did not stay down -- it was my curse -- I always got back up. And this fucker -- this fucker here -- he had actually literally kicked the shit out of me -- but I laid that boy down. He didn't know.*
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