“Well, the first thing is to get your heart back.”

“How do I do that?”

“We put you in an arena with other dudes in your position. Then we turn out the lights and y’all commence to throwing hands.”

“But what does that prove?”

“It proves that in the dark the ones who kick ass are those who bring the most ass.”

“What happens if I don’t bring enough ass?”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s a poor ass that can’t take an ass-whipping anyway. So you can still get your heart back if you can do like a Timex watch and take a licking but keep on ticking. Now get out a here and let the doorknob hit where the good Lord split you!”

I waited in a den before being sent out to do battle with the rest of the heartless dudes.

A voice came over a loudspeaker.

“All right, everybody, it’s time to bring ass. Just remember: the sweet smell of success comes from exposing somebody else’s stink. Nobody will ever kiss your ass unless you kick theirs first. So let’s see some decayed rump when the lights come up. Remember to keep in mind that all we’re trying to do is prepare you for a world where nobody accidentally bumps into anyone else.” The hatch to the den opened. There were hundreds of us in the arena.

“YOU GOT TO BRING ASS TO GET ASS!”

And then total darkness, followed by crazed shrieks, a stampede of hoofbeats, the crunch of bodies colliding, and blows backed up by grunts. I got caught in the height of someone’s hitting streak, and fists spit into me without letup. Somehow I managed to drag myself to a neutral zone. A light shone on me and moved to my behind.

“Is his ass grass?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it Kentucky Blue?”

“No, it looks more like crab to me.”

“All right. Bring him along.”

“Hey, looka here. It’s the spade whose heart pumps Kool-Aid. What you got to say for yourself?”

“Well, the Chinese say that of the thirty-six ways of avoiding trouble, running is the best.”

“Yeah, it figures that you’d be the first one to escape the scene of the action. And since you were the first to get away, we’re going to parole you. But it will go down on your record that you were released because of your skill in evasive action.”

I was picked up, and after a few warm-up tosses, thrown into a pool full of people being baptized. I was dunked until those giving the sacrament figured I was ready to enter my new church home. I was given a standing ovation. An apple-butter-brown man in ministerial robes with hair laid to his scalp like patent leather motioned me to the front of the church. My folks, Debra, Alice, Pauline, Otis, and Chilly were among the many packing the pews.