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Creative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front

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Then I said, "You’re yellow." He responded, "I think you better stop right there or I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson." This kid couldn't possibly beat me i thought, "You and who else?" Another snide comment caught in my throat as he hurled me to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He wasn't as weak as I assumed, but i only dropped because his attack caught me off guard. Meursault tried a pathetic attempt of a truce, offering me his hand. What kind of man did he think i was. I couldn't let the fight end here, so quickly. I mustered up my strength and jumped up, kicking him there on the ground. He kneed me and got some lucky punches in. My face bled a bit, nothing too serious. He asked me if I had enough, examining his hand carefully to search for any injuries. Grudgingly i said yes, knowing I could have won if i was more prepared to…show more content…
I said, “So you see, I wasn’t the one who started it. He was asking for it.” Meursault agreed, nodding his head in understanding. I told him I wanted to ask his advice about the whole business, because i knew he was a man. He had certainly proved it in our little brawl. He knew about things, and could help me, then we’d be pals. He didn’t say anything, and I asked me again if I wanted to be pals. He shrugged and said it was fine with him. Pleased, I got out the blood sausage, fried it up, and set out glasses, plates, knives and forks, and two bottles of wine. Only the best for my new pal. All this in silence. As we ate, I told him my story. He's a quiet guy, but i didn't mind. Honestly I would rather do all the talking. I cleared my throat, hesitant to share. “I knew this lady … as a matter of fact, well, she was my mistress.” I told him about the man who I had the fight with was this woman’s brother and I had been keeping her. Quickly I added to that I knew what people around the neighborhood were saying, but that my conscience was clear and that I was a warehouse
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