Thread:Thunderbird3InternationalRescue/@comment-25600892-20180219160759/@comment-33744259-20180220214347

Okay then:

That afternoon, Yang walked into the house. He had a bloody nose, a black eye, and his fur was all messy.

"Phooey," Yang called.

"I'm back here, Yang," said Phooey.

"I got into a fight at school," said Yang.

"What," Phooey asked.

"I got into a fight," said Yang.

Phooey then came in the room with an ecstatic expression on his face.

"That is awesome," Phooey cried happily, "Did you use the moves I taught you? I need a play-by-play."

"Well," said Yang as he extended his arm outwards and made a fist, "first I started with a Basic Clothesline."

"Good choice, good choice," said Phooey as he did the same.

"Yeah, I thought so, too," said Yang, "but when I reaced his head-"

"Did he duck," Phooey asked as he made a ducking stance.

"No," said Yang, "he punched me."

"Well, that's alright," said Phooey, "Did you react the way I taught you do?"

"Yeah," said Yang, "I flailed my arms and stumbled backwards."

Yang did the motion he just described.

"Atta boy, atta boy," said Phooey, "Did you make any dramatic sounds?"

"Well," said Yang, "I would've, but that's when I threw up."

"First fight jitters, huh," asked Phooey.

"Well, no," said Yang, "it was because he punched me in the stomach."

"Yang," said Phooey, "That doesn't mean you need to throw up."

"No, Phooey," said Yang, "I didn't do it on purpose! His fist made contact!"

"Like, physical contact," asked Phooey.

"Yeah," said Yang, "And it didn't stop! It just went right into my stomach!"

"Rookie mistakes," said Phooey, "Clearly, this kid does not know how to fight."

"I know," said Yang, "That's why I said "Hey! Who taught you how to fight?! You call that a punch?!"."

"Good for you," said Phooey, "He needs to learn to be more careful."

"Yeah," said Yang, "Well, that just seemed to make him more angry."

"It's alright," said Phooey, "It's important to show all of your emotions. Now, did you make an angry face in response?"

"I did," said Yang, "but his seemed more real than mine."

"Let me see your angry face," said Phooey.

Yang then made an angry face that looked like this.

"I don't know," said Phooey, "that's pretty good."

"Yeah," said Yang, "Well, his was better. Anyways, that's when he charged at me."

"Oh, man, this is exciting," said Phooey.

"I tried to anticipate what move he was gonna do so I could help him do it," said Yang.

"Right, right," said Phooey, "What move did he use?"

"A punch again," said Yang.

"Man," said Phooey, "this kid is not one for variety!"

"Yeah, I know," said Yang, "and the thing is he's not even good at it! His fist hit me again, right in the face!"

"Okay," said Phooey, "who was reffing this thing?"

"No one," said Yang.

"No referee," asked Phooey, "And he's making physical contact? What kind of fight is this?!"

"Now I've got this stupid black eye," said Yang.

"Just like the time Shelly punched you in the face," said Phooey, "Poor girl has no control."

"I know," said Yang, "That's why I said "You hit like a girl!"."

"What'd he say to that," asked Phooey.

"Nothing," said Yang, "He just stared at me like he was confused. Or, at least that's what I thought he was doing. It was hard to see through the tears."

"Then what happened," asked Phooey.

"Well, I thought "I'm gonna show 'im how it's done"," said Yang, "and I said "This is how you punch!" and I hit him three times in the face and once in the chest, but he hardly reacted at all."

"What," asked Phooey, "Did ou punch him the way I taught you to?"

"Yeah," said Yang, "I made big swinging motions, made sure to hit my foot on the ground at the same time!"

Yang demonstrated what he just described, and Phooey followed suit.

"But he didn't move at all," said Yang, "Well, that's not entirely true. He did punch me again."

"Alright, this is ridiculous" said Phooey as he took out his phone, "Who is this kid's father? I'm calling him right now!"

"It was Papa Wheelie," said Yang, "It was Fred Wheelie's son."

"Oh, I know Fred Wheelie," said Phooey, "Better stand back, Yang. This isn't gonna be pretty."

Phooey dialed Mr. Wheelie's number and soon was talking to his query.

"Fred Wheelie," Phooey hollered, "I heard what your son did to my pal today and I am holding you personally responsible! And when I find you, I'm going to teach you the meaning of PAIN!! You're gonna be in a hospital bed for a year, eating all your meals through a plastic tube!"

Phooey then threw his phone to the ground, then lept into the air and landed on his side on the coffee table, breaking it in half in the process, then paused to catch his breath.

"I hope that got through," said Phooey in a much calmer tone than from two paragraphs ago.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and when Phooey answered it, in came an out of breath Papa.

"Hey," said Papa, "My dad made me run over as fast as I could and apologize for beating you up. I'm really sorry.

"It's okay, son," said Phooey, "you just need to learn to be more careful. If you're gonna fight, you gotta do it properly, or someone may get hurt."

"Hey," a voice boomed.

A muscular middle-aged man with long blond hair, a horsehoe mustache, a Punisher t shirt, a black bandana with an orange flame pattern on his head, black jeans, and black combat boots walked in. It was Papa's father, Fred.

"I can promise you, brother," Fred barked at Phooey, "That'll never happen again!"

Fred then turned to his son.

"Papa," said Fred, "Let's take a ride!"

Father and son then walked out of the house and drove away in a monster truck.

"Wow," said Yang as he watched, "He's tough!"