Imitation Paragraph #2
Beard “The Fourth State of Matter”
One.Two.Three.Four. I find myself on first base. Apparently people don’t like it when you say they are scared. Why else would this guy roll me four straight pitches? He stands in my face, fists drawn. I wonder if he really would break my nose. Stoicism in the face of his tirade seems to break the man from his unfounded rage.
I am on my front porch, staring at the same man that threatened me. He is running for a local political office. His dangling flyer causes me much more alarm than his clenched fists ever could have. Are these the people that run our community? I stare at him, just as blankly as I did two years prior. I realize that his words are like a receipt to me, disregarded and forgotten as soon as they are given.