That's what my best friend, Joey said that day before I went out onto the playground. It was a horrible day. It had rained all morning, and I couldn't even remember why were were fighting.
It was me and Horace Silverstein. Mano-a-mano. Or perhaps boyo-a-boyo would be more appropriate.
Horace was the biggest kid in the eighth grade, six foot seven. He had red curly hair, and was known to pack an incredible right hook.
He always wore black. This was in the suburbs in the 1970s, around the time that punk music was getting big in New York. Horace, eighth grade, suburban Virginia