Brantley had just fixed himself a fine looking turkey sandwich. I can’t explain it, but I was feeling the overwhelming urge to bully someone. So without giving it too much thought I punched his sandwich flat. The bread was soft, and it felt great. Brantley expressed his disapproval. “What the hell was that for?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just saw it and felt like punching it.”
“I see something I feel like punching too.”
“Point taken. You complete me.”
