Steer your new bike towards the sultry divorcée's front door.

Bob careened across the street toward the divorcee's house. He hadn't been on a bike in some time and was feeling a little wobbly on it, and the dent in the front wheel from where Bob had hit Hubert's garden gnome wasn't helping. He heard the paperboy charging toward him from down the street. Bob looked over his shoulder to get a bead on the kid.

He was running, full tilt, at Bob. Bob hadn't been in a fight in...well...ever, really. Bob dismounted the mountain bike and positioned it between himself and the screaming boy, What's-His-Name. What's-His-Name came surging up to Bob, grabbed the other handle of the bike and pulled it away from him. Bob just kind of stood there for a second, he and What's-His-Name speachlessly staring at each other. What's-His-Name suddenly shouted, "What the ef, dude?"

Bob responded with an unsure kick at the boy's left knee. What's-His-Name, a wrestler at school, easily avoided Bob's kick. He might have responded to Bob's attack with further violence, but he saw something in Bob's eye just then; something crazy.

"Ef you, dude," said What's-His-Name. "You're nuts." He then hopped on his damaged bicycle and swerved away down the block to complete his paper route.

Bob collected himself for a moment, brushed off his coat and stood up straight. It was going to be harder to get in a real fight than he had thought. Bob had always just assumed that a fight could break out with anybody at any time for any reason. He'd never considered that it might take some effort to get into one.

Just then, the divorcee opened her front door and stepped out onto her porch...

The End

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