smack in
the middle, his nose was red and swelling slightly, “shit I think
you broke my nose!” He yelled touching his nose, “tit for tat
little sis.”
“Not the face! I have people to see tonight
and I don’t want to have to explain bruises.”
“Very well not the face.” He came at me
again. We went back and forth with him mainly having the upper
hand, but I had plenty of anger that was still flowing around
inside me.
I went for a simple punch, as he was within
striking distance but he caught my hand and then twisted up behind
my back and placed his other arm around my neck, “tsk, tsk, tsk,
baby sis. You should know better.”
Tom took this moment to try to interrupt,
“alright sir, I don’t allow that sort of fighting in my gym, you
want to street fight take it outside, you want to box then
box.”
My brother, ever the antagonist to authority
asked, “What ‘sort of fighting’ are we doing? This is sibling
rivalry at its best.”
Tom’s eyes widen, “he’s your brother?”
“Yes, he is and he’s starting to really piss
me off!” I grunted as I slammed my elbow into his ribs then with
the momentum threw all the weight I possessed into him and down we
went into a Shelton pile with me on top and his arm loosened around
my neck. I slammed my head into his chest then rolled off.
I stood proudly over my brother and gave him
a kick in the hip, “dumbass, now I’m going to have a bruise.” I
yelled down at him.
He just smiled.
His evil smile, “uh-oh don’t you smile like
that at me Bryant James Shelton, I have one to match.” He stood and
brushed himself off.
“Yes,” he said as he reached just under his
shorts and pulled out a knife, “but do you have one of these?”
“Oh Bryant, I have always been better at
knife combat than you why do you insist on playing with toys bigger
than your dick.”
“Oh you think so?” he taunted, and I was
about ready to disarm him when I heard the two voices yelling my
name that I didn’t want to hear, “Stay back boys or the girl here
will get it.” My brother playing the bad guy – I rolled my
eyes.
“Byrant that’s not nice!” I spun, kicking
his hand which he foolishly held out away from his body and the
knife landed about twenty feet away from him. With a few moves from
my gymnastic years I beat it to him and palmed the knife with the
blade facing me. “How many times have I told you never hold the
knife out like that? Always, always like this!” and I proceeded to
slice two big gashes in his shirt, not even cutting the skin.
“I liked that shirt!”
“Well tell daddy to get you a new one, tell
him I was in bitch mode!” I threw the knife into the wall next to
the locker room door, not ten feet from us, then proceeded to keep
him away from it.
He took the upper hand once again until with
a gym and martial art mixed move I did a beautiful back hand spring
and caught him right on the jaw.
As I righted myself I laughed at my brother,
laid out on the floor. I walked over to him and sat on his chest.
“Say uncle.” I wasn’t fooled for a minute, I knew he was awake.
“Never!” he grabbed me (because I foolishly
forgot to lock his arms down) and rolled me over and landed a blow
to my side, “always, protect your middle.”
“I know,” sounding very winded to my ears,
“I know. I think I have officially fought the anger out, thank
you.”
He kissed my cheek, “your welcome.” He sat
back and allowed me to sit up, you’ve been practicing.”
“So have you. Where’d you get it?” I asked
glancing at the knife.
“Dad, when I told him where I was going he
gave it to me,” he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.
“You’re still crap, you and I should
practice-”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Carson cut me off protesting as he and Kyle approached us. “Oops,”
I mumbled to Bryant and he grimaced at their arrival.
“That took years off of my life kitten,
don’t do that again.” Kyle begged
the middle, his nose was red and swelling slightly, “shit I think
you broke my nose!” He yelled touching his nose, “tit for tat
little sis.”
“Not the face! I have people to see tonight
and I don’t want to have to explain bruises.”
“Very well not the face.” He came at me
again. We went back and forth with him mainly having the upper
hand, but I had plenty of anger that was still flowing around
inside me.
I went for a simple punch, as he was within
striking distance but he caught my hand and then twisted up behind
my back and placed his other arm around my neck, “tsk, tsk, tsk,
baby sis. You should know better.”
Tom took this moment to try to interrupt,
“alright sir, I don’t allow that sort of fighting in my gym, you
want to street fight take it outside, you want to box then
box.”
My brother, ever the antagonist to authority
asked, “What ‘sort of fighting’ are we doing? This is sibling
rivalry at its best.”
Tom’s eyes widen, “he’s your brother?”
“Yes, he is and he’s starting to really piss
me off!” I grunted as I slammed my elbow into his ribs then with
the momentum threw all the weight I possessed into him and down we
went into a Shelton pile with me on top and his arm loosened around
my neck. I slammed my head into his chest then rolled off.
I stood proudly over my brother and gave him
a kick in the hip, “dumbass, now I’m going to have a bruise.” I
yelled down at him.
He just smiled.
His evil smile, “uh-oh don’t you smile like
that at me Bryant James Shelton, I have one to match.” He stood and
brushed himself off.
“Yes,” he said as he reached just under his
shorts and pulled out a knife, “but do you have one of these?”
“Oh Bryant, I have always been better at
knife combat than you why do you insist on playing with toys bigger
than your dick.”
“Oh you think so?” he taunted, and I was
about ready to disarm him when I heard the two voices yelling my
name that I didn’t want to hear, “Stay back boys or the girl here
will get it.” My brother playing the bad guy – I rolled my
eyes.
“Byrant that’s not nice!” I spun, kicking
his hand which he foolishly held out away from his body and the
knife landed about twenty feet away from him. With a few moves from
my gymnastic years I beat it to him and palmed the knife with the
blade facing me. “How many times have I told you never hold the
knife out like that? Always, always like this!” and I proceeded to
slice two big gashes in his shirt, not even cutting the skin.
“I liked that shirt!”
“Well tell daddy to get you a new one, tell
him I was in bitch mode!” I threw the knife into the wall next to
the locker room door, not ten feet from us, then proceeded to keep
him away from it.
He took the upper hand once again until with
a gym and martial art mixed move I did a beautiful back hand spring
and caught him right on the jaw.
As I righted myself I laughed at my brother,
laid out on the floor. I walked over to him and sat on his chest.
“Say uncle.” I wasn’t fooled for a minute, I knew he was awake.
“Never!” he grabbed me (because I foolishly
forgot to lock his arms down) and rolled me over and landed a blow
to my side, “always, protect your middle.”
“I know,” sounding very winded to my ears,
“I know. I think I have officially fought the anger out, thank
you.”
He kissed my cheek, “your welcome.” He sat
back and allowed me to sit up, you’ve been practicing.”
“So have you. Where’d you get it?” I asked
glancing at the knife.
“Dad, when I told him where I was going he
gave it to me,” he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.
“You’re still crap, you and I should
practice-”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Carson cut me off protesting as he and Kyle approached us. “Oops,”
I mumbled to Bryant and he grimaced at their arrival.
“That took years off of my life kitten,
don’t do that again.” Kyle begged