The Comment Section

"Yo momma shaves and wears army boots!"

"Fkk you!"

"Learn how to spell, idiot!"

"Learn how to think, idiot! If you'd read the terms and conditions of this web site, you'd know certain language is not allowed here."

"What would you know about reading? You probably never made it past Dick and Jane in elementary."

"Careful, buddy! There was a swear word in what you just said...Oh yeah! That's right, you have to think in order to be careful. My bad."

"Yes, you are! Bad at everything. You SSSUCK!!"

"No, YOU suck!"

"Learn from the Master, kids! That there is a classic example of a poor fella who flunked childhood and still thinks his 5th-grade comebacks are genius."

"At least I made it past the 5th-grade!"

"And how much tutoring did that take?"

"Aren't you a little too small of a man to be using such big words?"

"Get a dictionary and look it up! I'll wait...Tick, tock, tick, tock..."

"The fact you have nothing better to do with your life than argue on here says it all!"

"Well LOOOOOK whose talking!"

"'Who's', idiot! Learn you're contractions!"

"How ironic! Preaching to me about contractions when you can't even use one correctly yourself! It must've taken one contraction too many for yo momma to have you, coz you sure came out stupid!"

"You're the stupid one! It's called sarcasm. LOOK INTO IT! I deliberately misused 'your', you dumb sh&t!"

"No you didn't! YOU just seriously ARE that dumb! You prob'ly one of them Cunning-Cuckoos, aren't ya? Just taking a wild guess."

"And you just gave yourself away as being a Lang-Lame-o! Ha ha! That explains everything."

"Lang is going to be the next POTUS! Suck it up and get used to it!"

"I think you misspelled every single letter of that name: It's C-U-N-N-I-N-G-H-A-M! It's okay. You've been under so much stress from getting your a%% kicked it makes sense that you'd get a bit confused. After all, your a%% is obviously where your brain is!"

"Oh, so fascism appeals to you, does it? 'Cause that's what this country's gonna become if your monkey-suited Hitler wins - which rest-assured, he won't!"

"And communism is OK, huh? 'Cause that's what your cue-ball-headed comrade is all about!"

"Guys, what does any of this have to do with that cat playing the xylophone?"

"Screw you!"

"No, SCREW YOU!"

"I was talking to her!"

"No you wasn't!!"

"Must be getting close to re-dosing time on your meds!"

"You must get terribly lonely living down there in your mom's basement! What do you do when you're not online attacking people? I'm picturing a fridge full of decapitated animal heads in jars or something!"

"At least my mom don't shave and wear army boots!"

"Who taught you that one, your great-grandpa? You do realize that line stopped being funny like 60 EFFING YEARS AGO...Right?"

"You do realize how EFFING ANNOYING and unoriginal this 'RIIIGHT' thing is in the year 2020...RIIIGHT?"

"I know...RIIIGHT? Well DEAL WIT IT!!! 'Cause you're gonna be seeing a lot more of it if you keep arguing with me!"

"You know, this whole mess could be over with if you'd just be man enough to admit you're wrong and apologize. But you're not even man enough to come out from behind that screen!"

"And you are?"

"You bet I am!"

"And just how to you propose to prove it?"

"Tell me what town you live in and name the location! I WILL PERSONALLY TRAVEL THERE TO REARRANGE YOUR FACE!!!"

"RUSSETBORO!"

"Russetboro, Idaho?"

"Yep."

"HOLY SH#T, dude! Did you ever pick the wrong person to mess with! That's where I live!"

"Are you SERIOUS?! You're kidding, right? If you live in Russetboro, you must originally be from somewhere else, cuz NO native of THIS town could be as god-d$mn stupid as you!"

"THAT'S IT! IT'S ON NOW, PAL!!!! I'm assuming you know where the old mall is? If you don't, have a GPS take you there by your Sissy hand. Meet me in the parking lot in an hour!"

"HOPE YOU WEREN'T PLANNING ON DOING ANYTHING THE REST OF THE DAY BESIDES LAY THERE AND BLEED!!!"

"OH, I AM! AM I EVER!!! I'M GONNA SPEND THE REST OF IT POSTING PICS OF YOUR SORRY, PUNY, MANGLED EXCUSE FOR A BODY FOR THE WORLD TO SEE!!!"

"ONE HOUR!!! BY THE SNOW CONE STAND!!!"

"FINE!!!"

"BE THERE!!!"

"I WILL!!!"

***

A half-crushed aluminum can clanked to-and-fro, meandering in a rough, diagonal line from one corner of the bruised, aged, sun-welted asphalt to the other. Each metallic, sporadic gust-driven bounce could easily be someone's step. The tiny white building, with its fluorescent, grinning clown face painted on the side, was as alive with vibes of unfortunate luck as it was dead for business. Some kind of bird - vulture maybe - could be seen in the distance, nibbling at what looked like the remains of a poor, dead animal lying near a speed bump. A gust here and there carried the scent in lashes of olfactory torment, discouraging the presence of anyone at this neglected suburban location.

No, it was definitely a human's step this time! He recognized that abrupt, rubbery sneaker squeak. It was the same sound he heard from his own shoes every time one of them pushed against the ground a little too hard causing air to leak from the soles. Several seconds later, he heard it again. 

One hour. It had been an exact sixty minutes since all those rage-inflated threats had been made. It had to be him! It was time. He gritted his vibrating teeth, and everything but the perimeter of the building blacked out of consciousness. There it was again! Getting closer.

He eased himself backwards, clinging to the wooden siding the best his pale-knuckled hands would allow - knees bent, head sunken down into his shoulders. Thoughts of how nice and cozy home was chiseled at him. But there was no turning back. He'd gotten himself into this mess, and now he would have to try to find a way to get himself out.

While looking straight ahead, scheming to find the right words to say - all the while continuing to retreat from the location of the sound of that last step - a jarring sensation halted him. The warmth of body heat caused him to whirl around with a leap in the air and a shriek. 

The whites of both boys' eyes dominated their delicate faces. They jumped away from each other - each with convulsing Adam's apples in their throats. Both were developing "raccoon" circles around their ivory orbs from the brief amount of time they'd spent in the sun awaiting this decisive altercation. Both stood at around five feet, two inches tall, when not hunched over as they were now. Both weighed about one hundred, twenty pounds counting clothing and gear. The can of pepper spray the one held out rattled with viciousness as he battled to steady its aim above the other's bulletproof vest.

In gradual increments, the ice began to melt away from the moment. The can lowered, their respective survival stances loosened, and they found themselves slapping their knees in disbelief. When their insides couldn't take anymore laughter, they paused to allow reality to catch up.

"Real name's Edgar," the one with the mace said.

"Mine's Stewart," the one in the vest replied.

"Look...I...a...I'm sorry about everything I said. I promise I'm not normally like this. You just caught me in the middle of a really bad day."

"No worries, bro. But just so you know: It happens my mom really does 'wear army boots' - well, Air Force to be precise - she's stationed at Mountain Home air base right now."

"Dude, that is so cool! And I am so sorry I made that dumb remark. Was that what set you off?"

"Yeah, I guess it sorta was."

"Well tell her thanks for her service to the country next time you see her!"

"I'll do that."

As they shook hands, a vehicle pulled up beside the building and a lady wearing a polka-dotted face mask got out.

"Well, since we're here, c'mon I'll buy us a snow cone," Edgar offered as the window to the stand slid open.

"OK, I'll take you up on that," Stewart replied. "Make mine blue raspberry and coconut."

"Holy crap, that's my favorite too!"