"Abel, I'm not saying I want to kick you out but you need to understand that this is MY apartment and I don't like having it look like a pigsty." Oh s... now I'm a pig?"I groaned. "Stop it ok?" I lowered my voice. "Look, I know you're depressed because of your divorce, but you need to get out there again and did you even bother to go look for a job today?"He shrugged. "I looked online."I rolled my eyes. "You're supposed to dress up and go to interviews. I bought you two nice shirts and pants so. As soon as I'd latched on I punched out with the heel of my right as hard as I could, aiming squarely at the knee a foot or so above.The last time I'd done that move, in about the tenth grade, I'd crippled the kid. He'd been a football player, one of the school jocks trying to show off for his buddies by shoving the wimp around, and I'd caught him by surprise and pretty much shattered the joint. He was out of football for good after that, the knee was shot. His parents had made a lot of noises. More

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