After the game, Tyler’s dad marched over to the sideline and told the coach that he didn’t pay $200 registration to watch his damn kid pick his own butt all game. The next week, it was halftime when he paid the coach a visit. The coach, who somehow tuned him out or wasn’t threatened by his hostile body language. He’d just have to curse more. He’d have to get up in that asshole’s face. The next day, Tyler’s dad’s crew worked the Maple St. neighborhood, where the coach lived. And he saw him, too. He picked up his damn trash.
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Title by: Enrico Palatzo
Story by: Nick
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