He just couldn’t let it go

on any longer.

He had been angry at his

friend of twenty-

six-more-than-a-quarter-

of-a-frickin’-

century-years and while

he thought he

was more than justified

in that anger,

two months were more

than enough to

sulk, disguising said

sulking as a

necessary time away to

get in touch

with his inner whatever.

He wasn’t getting

any movement back his

way from what

one could term a pro-

foundly stubborn

temperament, his friend

being the baby

of six siblings, and a head

shaking in dis-

belief conflict averting

personality. So

if it was going to be resolved,

it, obviously,

was up to him to do it

and he did

and, once he did, he felt

better, but he

knew there was a dent

that wasn’t

going to go away even

with the assist-

ance of a ball-ping

hammer.