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Monday, November 23, 2015


Welcome! This week, the story comes from Al "Trunk" Mahoney, Defensive Lineman, book 6 in the First & Ten series. The prompt is "nasty."  Don't forget to return to the TT blog and read the stories from the gift writers there. Scroll down for link.


The team was warming up in the workout room before practice when they heard a commotion. Cursing, hollering and the banging of metal, the breaking of glass, stopped all activity.

“Who’s in the locker room?” Griff Montgomery asked.
“Trunk,” Bullhorn Brodsky responded. “Shit!”
Griff and Bull rushed into the room, followed by several teammates. There was Al “Trunk” Mahoney, trashing the locker room. He’d already busted his own locker, now he was starting on an empty one. He’d thrown a chair through the window and busted a mirror with his fist, which was bleeding from a nasty cut.
“Holy shit, Trunk!” Griff said.
“What the hell?” Bull asked.
“It’s Mary!”Trunk yelled, closing his injured fist, making ready to take another swing at the locker.
Tuffer Demson, another defensive linebacker, lunged at Trunk. Demson and Bull tried to subdue the big man. The linebacker fought hard, but the others pinned Al’s arms to his sides.
His eyes watered. In a moment he was sobbing. His teammates let him go and he sank to his knees. He picked up a busted cell phone.
“It’s Mary,” he choked out. “She’s leaving me. In a text.”
Silence clothed the room. The men glanced at each other, then stared at Trunk. Pete Sebastian, known as Coach Bass to the team, ran in. He stopped short at the sight. The destruction made him gasp.
“I’m sorry, Coach,” Trunk muttered.
“Come on, Trunk. Get him up, guys. Bring him to my office,” Coach instructed. “Break it up. Show’s over. We have a game to get ready for.”
Devon Drake and Bull eased the wounded linebacker to his feet. They followed him to Coach’s office, then left and closed the door.
Coach was on the phone with security. Jo stuck her head in, but Coach waved her away. Trunk sank down onto a chair like a deflated balloon.
“Almost four years of marriage. Down the toilet,” he sighed, wiping his eyes.
Coach handed him a handkerchief. “Want to talk about it?”­


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