The Good Fight

"No. You know I never fight. And we boxed only one time for a few minutes in junior high. Besides that, Teddy's teaching him and sparring with him. Teddy was a good Golden Gloves boxer." "Do you have to box him?" Frank was scraping the remains of chili from his plate with a cracker. "That's what I'm looking at. I wouldn't mind trying if it was just a friendly match, but it looks like they're trying to make some kind of duel out of it. Like in the old West." "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral?" "Yeah. And that's depressing." "What's my Christian duty?" "Beat the heck out of him, and then repent." Frank wiped his mouth again with the paper napkin and sat back. "I'm serious. If it's a sport I can do my best to win. If it's a fight I got to turn the other cheek. Jesus says 'Whoever smites you, ' you got to turn the other cheek. Billy is more than just a 'whoever.' He's been my friend off and on for eight years." "If he's a friend, how come he's being this way?"