I walk up and punch a fat man in the stomach. He coughs and sputters for a minute before looking at me with accusing eyes.
“What’d you do that for?” he asks.
“None of your business,” I say.
“I think it is.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well,” he begins, “it is my business inasmuch as your actions had a direct affect on my person. Had you not come along and punched me in the stomach, my business would have remained unchanged for an undeterminable period. However, as your actions involved me specifically, the nature of my previous business was changed, and I am now involved in this current business, into which your actions reluctantly drew me.”
I walk into the next room and see a group of teenagers smoking marijuana. I want them to think I am cool so I ask them for a hit. I have not smoked pot in years and the stinging smoke burns my lungs and I cough up blood and look like a fool. The teenagers all laugh at me so I leave. When I go into the other room the fat man I punched in the stomach smiles at me and laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“None of your business,” he says sarcastically.
I immediately feel bad for having hit him earlier. I place my flattened hand on his enormous belly and take the punch back.
It hurts my knuckles, but it is the right thing to do.