Brains, Mouths, and Fists

The big one; er, the big one in front, not the one who was holding my elbows behind my back, leaned in. He needed a breath mint. Or twelve.

“Look, wise guy, we can do this the easy way—”

“Wait, don’t tell me—or we can do it the hard way? Am I right?”

I think he pushed my solar plexus into my elbows, which, if you’ll recall, were behind my back.

I do so wish my mouth would check with me before taking the driver’s seat.