Tommy went full force from there, landing all sorts of hits on my face, all while blood dripped from his head.
“Stop!” Nicoletta yelled again, and jumped on his back. “Tommy! He didn’t hit me!”
“My bong!” Berniebro decided to add to the conversation, right then.
I was just about out for the count, drifting into a comfy void, when Tommy stopped with a fist raised.
“This faggot didn’t hit you?”
The last thing I remember are the words, “No! It was my friend Jeanine that he’s fucking. Okay? So, I don’t know, just fucking stop! And don’t fucking say that, my brother is gay.”
These were good people, I’m telling you.
The next time I remember my eyes being open I had a cold rag on my head and my body was crazy warm. I looked over to see Tommy, shirtless, sitting next to me.
Nick Denardi 