Two boys were sitting unattended on a couch in the doctor's office. They were about eleven, big boys with soprano voices and baby bottom smooth jawlines, but pubescence was hurtling down the pike.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Yes, do you?"
"Two of them."
"I have three of them."
"Three of them?"
"One of them isn't my girlfriend anymore. She cheated on me."
"So you have just two girlfriends?"
"Three, but one cheated on me."
"I have more girlfriends too."
"Four, but one doesn't live here anymore."
"You said you just had two."
"I can beat you up." Poke back.
"No you can't. I beat up another guy once."
"I beat up two guys." Poke.
"I beat up six guys all at once." Poke, poke.
"I beat up my big brother, and he's fourteen." Poke, poke, poke.
"You know what? I've got a yellow belt in karate." Push.
"Well, I know how to wrestle." Push, grab.
"I do too." Shove.
"I know better than you." Mutual shoves.
"Better watch out. I'm tough." Continuous shoving.
"I'm tougher then you are." Throws weight on other boy.
"I'm the toughest." Heaves back.
Rough and tumble begins. Couch creaks.
The woman sitting across from them, the one who's been writing down everything they say, speaks up. "That's enough, guys. Don't damage the furniture."
Both boys look up, their faces startled and innocent. "Huh? We weren't doing anything."