Greta looked on, disappointed in her former friend, Foo. Not that long ago he started juicing, telling his friend he was tired of being a wimp. Then, for reasons that made no sense to her, Foo started scooping up field mice and bopping them on the head. It seems he took a perverse delight in inflicting misery on the lesser creatures of the forest.
"It's roid rage", Greta concluded, but Foo refused to listen. Then he pushed her and, when she tried to grab him, bit her arm. Greta cried as Foo left. He grabbed his bopping stick and left the home they shared.
She didn't see him again for many weeks. One day Greta was walking through the forest when she saw Foo. He held his bopping stick in one hand while slapping the opposite end into the palm of his hand.
Field mice emerged from the woods. Each one had a bandaged head. Obviously these were bopping injuries. The mice looked angry. It seemed they had had enough and were determined to stand up to the bully, Foo.
But Foo didn't seem worried. "I can do a lot worse than give you a bop on the head", Foo said, laughing. He was going to have some fun putting these insolent rodents in their place.
Suddenly the mob bum rushed him, swarming him in an instant and completely taking Foo off guard.
When it was over Foo lay on the ground, covered in bites and scratches. After the mice departed Greta approached her friend. Was he dead? A small trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His eyes fluttered open when he felt his friend's touch.
"My friend", he whispered. Greta helped him up and took him home, Foo hobbling, leaning on Greta and using his stick to support himself.
Some time later, after Greta nursed Foo back to health, he reconsidered his past actions. "Those damn mice beat me up good", he concluded, sighing.
"Perhaps it's time to make peace", Greta said, counseling her friend.
"Maybe", Foo agreed reluctantly. "On the other hand, I could get some more steroids, juice up, and get my revenge!"
Greta didn't think that was a good idea and said so, trying to talk her friend out of this course of action. Instead of arguing, Foo agreed to give it some thought.
But he had already made up his mind. Later that night, after a meal of carrot soup and some time cuddling on the couch watching Netflix, Greta turned in for the night. Foo pretended he was going to turn in as well. He went to his room and sat on his bed waiting.
When he heard Greta's snores from the next room, he got up and snuck into the kitchen. This is where Greta kept her purse. Reaching in, he found her pocketbook and opened it, removing the cash he found inside. Then he crept into Greta's bedroom and raided her jewelry box.
Leaving the house, he examined his take under a moonlit sky. This, he concluded, would be enough to buy more steroids from his supplier. Then the mice would pay dearly. He wouldn't just bop them on the head lightly for fun, as he had in the past. This time he would strike with all his might and seriously crack some skulls.
swtd-450. ant-4. Analysis. Previous. Next.
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