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Kellerman was on the high school wrestling team.
as such, he was always working out some new wrestling
move on us.
one second you could be sitting there in his room playing
Nintendo and the next, find yourself
caught in a side headlock or a full Nelson.
“I’m going to put the Mandible Claw on you, Arnett,” he
would announce, and the struggle would ensue.
if he got you in a crossface chickenwing then you were
bound to say, “Give.”
I didn’t have any formal training as such but, I was wiry and
what I lacked in knowledge I made up for in speed.
I put up some good fights and our wrestling matches
were epic and
would often leave his room looking
like a wrecking ball had come through town.
broken plates and chipped sound board lay on the ground.
once, he had the audacity to jump me, without warning,
as we were walking through my parents living room.
I flipped him onto the floor then we went at it, with legs
flailing. one of our legs struck my father’s priceless
we both stared as the statue
fell face forward.
it was like watching a movie in slow motion.
then a stone hand rolled out from underneath.
we knew we were in deep shit.
my sister was there and she saw the whole thing.
“Get some crazy glue,” Kellerman said.
we went to work and managed to stick the hand
back on but easily shaved a cool 40K off the
statue's value, making this,
my most expensive poem to date.