you’d
save them for me.”
“I said no such
thing. You weren’t willing to pay what I wanted, so I sold them to somebody
else.” The woman was beginning to look really frightened. The man started
walking around the table to close on her.
“I bought the
panels,” Stryker said as he approached. The man turned around and stared at him
with an angry expression. He had close to three inches and fifty pounds on Stryker.
Assess and
evaluate.
The man was large,
but fat around the middle. He was wearing coveralls and a baseball hat, and was
flexing his meaty fists. He wore a pistol in an old-fashioned Western holster
with a strap on the top. He would never clear the holster before Stryker
cleared and fired his XD, but he would keep a wary eye for any sign the man
intended to escalate the conflict. He took an angry step toward Stryker, then
stopped and glared at him.
“You falling in
love with me? You can’t seem to stop staring. Are you transfixed by my good
looks?” The man looked confused for a moment, then angrier. Apparently, it took
him some time to process what he heard.
“I want those
panels,” the large man growled.
“Those panels are
just like a woman. Let’s call her Suzy. Suzy is leaving the dance with me. She
is sitting next to me on the way home. So, that means you’re leaving the prom
alone. You understand that or do I have to slow down and say it again?”
“What? You some
sort of smart ass?”
“Smarter then you,
although that really isn’t saying much. I’ve seen dishrags smarter than you.
Hell, one-celled organisms look like Nobel Prize winners next to you. You need
me to repeat that?”
The man took one
stride towards Stryker and launched a huge roundhouse that seemed to be coming
at him like a freight train, until Stryker batted his arm down, grabbed it, and
spun the man so he faced away. He deliver two kidney punches, really world
class in his book, and the man stumbled and stepped away. Stryker closed on him
quickly, spun him around, kneed him in the balls, then head-butted his nose and
heard a satisfying crunching sound. The man stumbled away again but Stryker
delivered a half-knuckled blow to the man’s throat, hard enough to temporarily
close the larynx, but not the killing blow he could have used. Still the man
would not go down, and again charged him swinging wildly. Stryker used his
momentum against him, and delivered a viscous blow to the side of his head with
an elbow.
This time the man staggered
away with one hand held up as a sign of surrender. But, he was wearing a
handgun and Stryker couldn’t take any chances. He closed on him again and
delivered two solid shots to his head with the sides of his fists and one more
to the throat. This time, the man went down and stayed there. Stryker reached
down and removed his pistol as Tom came running toward the scene, AR at the low
ready.
“What happened
here?” he asked the woman.
“The big guy on the
ground attacked Stryker. He wanted the panels.” Stryker handed the pistol to
Tom and started to leave.
“Wait,” the woman
said as she came out from behind the table to stand with the two men. “Thank
you so much. Can I ask you what you did for a living?”
“I was a garbage
man.”
“A garbage man?”
“Yeah. It was nice
returning to my former occupation today. That was garbage,” he said, pointing
to the unconscious man. “I took it out.” She shook her head slowly and smiled.
“Thanks again. He
was going to start something with me.”
“I know. I guess
I’ll see you both next week.” They all nodded at each other and Stryker went to
his Jeep and left town.
As Stryker drove
back to the ranch, he remembered how his grandpa added on rules of fighting as
he got older. The third rule was to never punch a man in the face with a fist.
He explained the rule as they were watching a boxing match and the fighter on
the defensive never tried to parry a blow. Rather, he pulled his chin to his
chest, turtle like,
save them for me.”
“I said no such
thing. You weren’t willing to pay what I wanted, so I sold them to somebody
else.” The woman was beginning to look really frightened. The man started
walking around the table to close on her.
“I bought the
panels,” Stryker said as he approached. The man turned around and stared at him
with an angry expression. He had close to three inches and fifty pounds on Stryker.
Assess and
evaluate.
The man was large,
but fat around the middle. He was wearing coveralls and a baseball hat, and was
flexing his meaty fists. He wore a pistol in an old-fashioned Western holster
with a strap on the top. He would never clear the holster before Stryker
cleared and fired his XD, but he would keep a wary eye for any sign the man
intended to escalate the conflict. He took an angry step toward Stryker, then
stopped and glared at him.
“You falling in
love with me? You can’t seem to stop staring. Are you transfixed by my good
looks?” The man looked confused for a moment, then angrier. Apparently, it took
him some time to process what he heard.
“I want those
panels,” the large man growled.
“Those panels are
just like a woman. Let’s call her Suzy. Suzy is leaving the dance with me. She
is sitting next to me on the way home. So, that means you’re leaving the prom
alone. You understand that or do I have to slow down and say it again?”
“What? You some
sort of smart ass?”
“Smarter then you,
although that really isn’t saying much. I’ve seen dishrags smarter than you.
Hell, one-celled organisms look like Nobel Prize winners next to you. You need
me to repeat that?”
The man took one
stride towards Stryker and launched a huge roundhouse that seemed to be coming
at him like a freight train, until Stryker batted his arm down, grabbed it, and
spun the man so he faced away. He deliver two kidney punches, really world
class in his book, and the man stumbled and stepped away. Stryker closed on him
quickly, spun him around, kneed him in the balls, then head-butted his nose and
heard a satisfying crunching sound. The man stumbled away again but Stryker
delivered a half-knuckled blow to the man’s throat, hard enough to temporarily
close the larynx, but not the killing blow he could have used. Still the man
would not go down, and again charged him swinging wildly. Stryker used his
momentum against him, and delivered a viscous blow to the side of his head with
an elbow.
This time the man staggered
away with one hand held up as a sign of surrender. But, he was wearing a
handgun and Stryker couldn’t take any chances. He closed on him again and
delivered two solid shots to his head with the sides of his fists and one more
to the throat. This time, the man went down and stayed there. Stryker reached
down and removed his pistol as Tom came running toward the scene, AR at the low
ready.
“What happened
here?” he asked the woman.
“The big guy on the
ground attacked Stryker. He wanted the panels.” Stryker handed the pistol to
Tom and started to leave.
“Wait,” the woman
said as she came out from behind the table to stand with the two men. “Thank
you so much. Can I ask you what you did for a living?”
“I was a garbage
man.”
“A garbage man?”
“Yeah. It was nice
returning to my former occupation today. That was garbage,” he said, pointing
to the unconscious man. “I took it out.” She shook her head slowly and smiled.
“Thanks again. He
was going to start something with me.”
“I know. I guess
I’ll see you both next week.” They all nodded at each other and Stryker went to
his Jeep and left town.
As Stryker drove
back to the ranch, he remembered how his grandpa added on rules of fighting as
he got older. The third rule was to never punch a man in the face with a fist.
He explained the rule as they were watching a boxing match and the fighter on
the defensive never tried to parry a blow. Rather, he pulled his chin to his
chest, turtle like,
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