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It was the greatest run yet: my skateboard flying down the hill, me flying off, thumbs in the air, slicing through this dude's bicycle wheel, the spokes splintering off like shooting darts. He drags me down to my house: he'll make my dad pay, he says, Dad facing off... But my memory fades: a boy's face? a bloody nose? a fat lip? maybe a missing tooth?
Dad's I remember: his bulging veins, that sizzling scowl; hairy knuckles, too-- like an ape's. His beefy hands and sausage fingers remove his watch, handing it to me to keep 'it' safe. However it was, he shows him. Shows him good! We walk home, his arm heavy and hot around my neck. "Too dangerous," he says. "Too dangerous." Years later, I would still keep it under my bed, its brightly-colored decal shining like new.
'Bad Boy' it says, the tears flowing down the face.
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