“Eh, no thanks George. I don’t wanna piss off Raoul,” you shyly mutter, adverting your eyes.
George takes a step back and looks confused, “Why You… come into my home? You sad ass piece of…” She starts to cry.
This is not good. You reach out to console her and she knocks your hand away. “Don’t you touch me!” she growls her voice lowering. George is no longer the sweet little girl, but is now the 6’5” former wide receiver. She shoves you hard with both hands as she had many times on the football field, breaking through press coverage. You are easily flung backwards over the 3rd story hand railing. You do a perfect 1 1/2 back flip, headfirst into the concrete.
Greg Louganis would have proud. You barely made a splash.
THE END
or back to the