Gronk strolled confidently toward his unsuspecting enemy. Aggravation and confrontation was the order of the day. It was time they were at each other’s throats. Gronk was a fervent believer in his inexorable rise. Cocksure would win the day. And he would do anything to get there. Lie. Cheat. Brown-nosing. Absolutely anything. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Fathead and the others casting a quizzical glance. Even the weaselly Groate looked on. It was working. Gronk stopped short of Steve.
Steve turned and rolled his eyes.
“You are such a low-life. I mean, look at you…”
“D’you want something?”
“Yes, you are my social inferior… I want to you to shut up!”
“Is that really why you came over here? Just to tell me to shut up?” Steve smiled.
Gronk stared with hateful intent. “You’re a nonentity. I mean, who are you anyway?”
“You seem to know who I am,” Steve replied.
“Don’t overstep the mark, you damn loser! I’m from a different social strata. People like you should respect your betters…”
Steve did not back down. “And what have you done to earn respect? Being desperate enough to hang around that lot,” he nodded over to Fathead. “No wait, it must be your strutting around like a total nobber.”
Gronk moved in. “You’ll regret crossing me.” Leaning back, he said in a raised voice, “Er… stop insulting my friends!!”
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