They threw people to the pavement

like a big tight end slamming a foot-

ball to the ground after making a

great touchdown catch, apparently

with just about as much glee. He

watched a few of the knock-downs

on the ten o’clock news. An old

man, down in a nanosecond, cracked

his face on a curb and blood flowed

like an egg splattering in a hot pan.

An old woman slapped in the lower

back lurched forward, buckled back-

ward with splayed legs flying sky-

ward as she cracked her tailbone.

Mindless rage disguised as a fun

night out, young people on old

folks, cowards scaring the neigh-

borhood. He flipped the channel

to the sound of assault rifles

screaming and bodies flying

before the team regrouped at

the office for clever repartee,

great laughs and a few guffaws.

He had had enough fun for one

night so he hit the remote, turned

out the lights and prayed for

sweet dreams. On the way to

the bedroom, he heard himself

utter, “Good luck with that.”