It was a warm June afternoon. The most recent match had just finished; Dingo Bone against Great Tiger. Great Tiger had won, and Dingo Bone was very sore about it.

"Tu fais un travail fantastique," said Joe to Great Tiger. (You did a great job.)

Dingo Bone scoffed. "He wouldn't be half the boxer he is if it weren't for 'is bloody magic."

Joe deflated a little. Great Tiger simply looked unmoved. "अरे, तुम्हारी तरह बेवकूफ बनने से तो अच्छा है." (Hey, it's better than being an ass like you.)

"What?!" Dingo Bone started to go red in the face.

"Dingo," said Joe softly, "tu as vraiment besoin d'apprendre comment accepter la défaite." (Dingo, you really need to learn how to accept defeat.)

"Yeah, you would know all about that, wouldn'tcha, Joey?!" Dingo Bone sharply prodded Joe's shoulder. "Y'old, useless, weak yutz! Yer gonna tell me what's what around here when you haven't even won a single match, let alone gotten the champion's belt?! I could kick yer arse any day! I could probably kill ya if I fought hard enough!"

Ordinarily, Joe would take whatever Dingo Bone spat at him without fighting back. But after hearing that, he couldn't explain how, but something inside him just.

Completely.

Snapped.

"Dingo, j'ai suffit," he pushed back. "J'étais ici loin devant toi, et je vais être ici pour longtemps. Pendant tout ce temps, tu es rien d'autre que mechant, tyrannique, et égoïste. C'est pourquoi personne ne t'aime. Je ne t'aime pas, et je me considère comme une personne très tolérante. Un jour, tu vas être complètement seule, et curieux pourquoi tu n'as rien d'amis. Moi, je serai heureux si je n'ai jamais besoin de te voir pour le reste de ma vie!" (Dingo, I've had it. I've been here long before you, and I'll continue to be here for a long time. All this time, you've been nothing but mean, nasty, and selfish. That's why no one likes you. I don't like you, and I consider myself a very tolerant person. One day, you're gonna be all alone, and wondering why you don't have any friends. Me, I'll be happy if I never have to see you again for the rest of my life!)

Joe didn't intend to shout that last part, but at that point, his blood was boiling with rage, and he had to take it out on someone. He turned heel and stormed towards the exit.

"Daddy?" Katrina cautiously whispered, peeking through the children's room doorway.

"Va a l'auto." (Go to the car.) Joe said coldly.

Katrina was taken aback. She had never seen her father angry before, let alone this angry. She quickly trailed behind him to the car. When it became clear to her that her father's judgement was completely clouded by his anger and he wasn't paying attention to her, she scrambled to pull her seatbelt over herself before he started the car.


When they got home, Katrina scurried upstairs to her room to hide. Joe stalked to the kitchen to start dinner. Shake 'n' Bake pork chops. Boneless Shake 'n' Bake pork chops. He rather violently shook the pork chops, and once the pan was in the oven, he slammed the door shut.

And then he took a deep breath. That always helped him cool down. He had said his piece, and now he was back in his cosy home, with a warm meal cooking in the oven. After a few moments, he felt better. Now, there was just the matter of talking to Katrina. So up the stairs he went to her bedroom door.

There was no answer when he knocked on her door. "Katrina?" When she still didn't answer, Joe entered her room, and was surprised to find it empty. At first, anyway; he wasn't that dumb. "Je suppose que Katrina a disparu. Je vais appeler son école pour lui dire qu'elle ne retourne pas…" (I guess Katrina's disappeared. I'll call her school and tell them she's not coming back…)

"No!" Katrina scrambled out from under her bed and into her father's arms. "I'm here!"

Now that he had her attention, Joe sat Katrina down to talk to her. "J'étais tellement fâché cette après-midi," he began, "et je crier. Mais aucune de ces situations n'était ta faute. C'était ma faute pour perdre mon tempérament, et…" (I was very angry this afternoon, and I shouted. But none of it was your fault. It was my fault for losing my temper, and…)

He realised that he never buckled Katrina's seatbelt. "...et ne place pas ta ceinture de sécurité, s'il te plaît me dire tu se fixer." (...and not fastening your seatbelt, please tell me you got it.)

"I did," said Katrina.

"Bien," said Joe, relaxing. He held his daughter close. "Je vais demander un appoint avec Dr. Abina pour cette fin de semaine." (I'll schedule an appointment with Dr. Abina for this weekend.) He then brought Katrina downstairs to put on the rice.


The next day, when Joe went into work, he was expecting the other boxers to be fearful of him. But instead, they were warm and understanding. "Joseph," said Pierce, "based on yesterday's…outburst, and other complaints, we've decided to have Dingo Bone transferred to a different league."

Joe pursed his lips. He felt a little bad that he had flipped Dingo Bone's career upside down, but hey, at least he didn't have to deal with him anymore. "D'accord," he mumbled.

"Hey, don't feel bad about it," said Pierce, "we all hated that guy."

They did? That certainly was reassuring. Looking around, the arena felt just a bit brighter now. Joe appreciated that.