Fist fightI did the moral thing. I punched Fanny in the face.

She stole my soccer ball. Playing in the park with my friends, Jason Cocks thumped it with a magnificent kick. Unfortunately, it flew for miles into someone’s front yard. I was the closest, so I ran across the road to get it back.

I knew the family that lived there. Fanny was her name and that day she wore a simple black and white polka dot dress. She held the ball; defiantly held the ball.

“Hey can I have my ball back?”

“No, it’s mine now.”

“C’mon be fair, it’s my ball!”

“Nope. Come and get it!”

I just wanted to get back to the park and continue playing soccer. I had a decision to make. Do I waste time with her silly stunt or do I just do what’s the moral thing to do?

I did the moral thing. I punched Fanny in the face. She hit me back. It was a hell of a fistfight. Neither won, and the ball bounced out onto the road where a bus ran it over and it burst with a loud pop.

^{Bert Ernie}