Critica In Media Res

“So, I’m shadowboxing nude and in walks Clyde.”

“Whoa, so many questions.”

“By all means, ask away George. Not trying to tell a story here or anything.”

“First thing, you shadowbox nude?”

“Yes George, I exercise flesh exposed.”

“Aren’t there certain parts of your famous anatomy that would make that difficult?”

“I tend to exercise during my waning periods.”

“I thought lunar imagery was reserved for the reverse end.”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t have an apt and respectable metaphor that fits your constraints.”

“Some of us believe in constraints, boxers myself.”

“George, please can we get on with this?”

“Fine, you were at the part where Clyde walked in through your unlocked door.”

“No, he has a key.”

“I thought you didn’t hand keys out to anyone Henry?”

“Just anyone, George. You have to have a reason to need a key.”

“I get lonely sometimes, Henry. You know that.”

“Well so does Clyde, then he calls Phoebe.”

“Oh God, again? That man is like the lifetime station in reverse.”

“Well this time he’s bleeding and she’s coming at him with a paring knife.”

“Then what?”

“Dumb bastard didn’t lock the door. Took all my wits to run back into my bedroom and barricade myself.”

“And you called me why?”

“In hopes of advice.”

“911 is the conventional choice.”

“Oh duh! Sorry, I was kind of taken by surprise, still a bit out of sorts.”

“Understandable, tell me how it works out.”

“Will do.”

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