Reason

                                                  Reason
                                                                                          Marty Livingston
         
      Sy came waltzing back from the party with that smug look on his face and his

chin jutting out just waiting to be clocked.  He smiled at Jim, or was it more of a

smirk? 

      “Did you meet any girls at the dance Jim?  I walked Betty home after the last

dance.  Look at all the lipstick I had to wipe off on my hanky.”

      Over and over, Jim kept hearing his mother’s voice bouncing around in his

head.  “Sy is your brother.  Be nice to him.  You have no reason to be angry with

him.”
         No reason?  Jim thought.  The fucking weasel, I hate him.  “Reason,” he kept

hearing non-stop.  His whole body boiled every time he heard that word.  His

shoulders tightened.  His fists clenched.  And he’s not my real brother anyway, he

thought.  I just hate him. 

        “Fuck you,” he said aloud in response to Sy’s hanky waving.
         
        “Oh, does that mean that you didn’t get any?” Sy continued.
         
        That did it.  “Reason!” Jim heard in his head.  “You fucking weasel,” he said

as his fist slammed into Sy’s jutting jaw.  Sy went down and made no effort to get

up, no effort to fight back.
         
        As Jim started to leave his heart was still going a mile a minute.  His fists

were still clenched. 

      Walk away now. Walk away, he told himself.

      He turned on a dime and heard himself let out a loud guttural sound.  His fists

now both in the air about head high, he charged like a mad gorilla. 

         

      Sy had just begun to get back to his feet when Jim set upon him with both

fists pounding.  Blood ran from Sy’s face.  He went down hard and lay there.
         

      Again Jim started to leave the room.  Walk away damn it.  Just walk away, he

told himself.  His blood continued to boil.  He went back into the room where Sy lay

crying on his back.  “You weasel,” he said with heated scorn as he put his knees

on Sy’s shoulders.  His excitement mounted as he pushed his bulging crotch in

Sy’s face and enjoyed watching him squirm.
         

        Once more Jim got up and left the room.  Enough, he thought.  Now walk

away.  No more.  He took a deep breath and grew calm, but it was not simply a

calm.  This time his fury turned to ice.  Once more he went back to Sy.  This time

he was no longer frantic and exploding.  This time his motions were slow and

deliberate.  Jim knelt over Sy, put his hands around his throat and began to

squeeze.
         

        “Please,” Sy pleaded through his sniveling tears. 
         

        “You son of a bitch, you worthless weasel.”
         

          Jim began to tighten his grip.  He felt Sy’s breathing stop for a few seconds. 

Then he pulled himself away and walked out into the cold dark night.