What are you, twelve?

Where did that come from?

The first scene I wrote yesterday was The Suck. Antony sitting around and being a spectator to history. It didn’t quite get me to quota, so then I started a new scene, where introducing his wife helped liven things up. Two sentences into today’s continuation, she verbally kicks him in the ass and asks just what he intends to do about the problems around him. So I send Antony off to pick a fight with Pym . . .

And he picks a fight.

Well, not quite. It isn’t his fault the scene almost devolved into a riot. But for the love of baby Jesus, man, you’re thirty-two. Aren’t you a little old for fistfights in the street?

LBR quota: Well, it was supposed to be all rhetoric, but some blood got in there.
Authorial sadism: Having your wife call you on your cowardice, I suppose.

0 Responses to “What are you, twelve?”

  1. mastadge

    Antony vs Pym? But they’re both Skrulls! Or are they?

  2. moonandserpent

    You’re never too old for a fistfight in the street.

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