TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE

I watch as my words have the desired effect, and Sharon starts grinding her teeth. I also watch as she pulls back her arm and hurls the pickle at me. It hits me in the forehead, between the eyes, with a soggy, vinegary splat. I get some residual splash in my eyes and have to blink against the sting. I rub my left eye with my hand.

“Ouch. That burns.” It’s half a deadpan and half the truth.

“So will this,” Sharon growls before she stalks over and raises her knee, trying to angle it right at my groin.

“Oh, hell no. That is not happening again. Bag me once; shame on me. Bag me twice…well, no. Just. No.”

She slams into me, but I block any and all access to my junk by angling away and giving her my knee only. I grasp her wrists, angling them above her head to subdue her since she goes for my eyes, her fingers like claws after I cock block her. Mmm hrmmm. I’m not exactly sure that’s how you use that saying, but whatever. I use her momentum to twist her against the wall, and I trap her there