BREN
Jordan went apeshit.
He threw the recliner into the kitchen.
That wasn’t enough. He went for the other recliner.
That recliner went into the hallway.
The couch was flipped over.
“She—” He was red in the face, bending because he wasn’t content with the couch how it was. He flipped it upright, but shoved it toward the kitchen. I had no idea where he was going with it. “She—” grunt “—thought—” more grunting, shoving. The couch was now past the dining room table. “—she could w***e herself out? For WHAT? FOR WHO?” There was roaring as he climbed over the couch and kicked open the back door.
Zellman, Cross, and I stood in a straight line. I think we were all of the same mindset, simply waiting for him to tire himself out.
Jordan went back to grunting and cursing, and soon the couch
