Jerry, the protector of evil in our household, was about to leave home in an awesome epic moment. Bob and Jerry had gotten in a fight that culminated around the pickup bed of Bob’s truck, Jerry on one side and Bob on the other. I can’t remember specifically what the fight was about but generally there was plenty of reason to want to kick Bob’s ass. Bob was hurling the beer bottles from the back of his truck and Jerry was dodging them saying, “nope, missed me!” Pieces of broken bottle were flying, and the sound will forever be associated with anxiety, anger and great joy. Infuriated, Bob would lunge to one side of the truck but Jerry would casually move in the same direction keeping equidistance between them. Bob, with his black greasy comb over falling in his eyes began spewing obscenities at Jerry and broadcasting that he was never to return to our home, under no circumstances. Jason and I were mortified, screaming at Bob to stop. Mom was desperately yanking at the back of Bob’s shirt to try and slow him down.
It was a majorly chaotic scene, a typical day in low-income housing. And then the beauty unfolded. Jerry, in one smooth, seamless motion, picked up a beer bottle, locked Bob in the crosshairs and let it fly. The bottle hit Bob square between the eyes making a loud “thunk” and caused him to stop and stumble backward a few steps. Jason and I cheered as if our team had just scored a touch down and mom stood on the sidelines in shock. A dark line of blood formed in the deep indention on Bob’s forehead and the crazy game of tag came to a halt. Jerry turned on his heels and announced, “See ya,” and by his own accord left our clan. The short-lived moment of celebration was over. It became immediately clear that now Jason and I were on our own.