"Bobby studied his mother's profile. She was still staring up at the ceiling, obviously not able to look at him. He reached out and gently brushed som...e loose hairs off her sweaty face. She closed her eyes and when she re-opened them a tear rolled down the side of her face. Bobby leaned over and kissed it away."I love you, Mom. I always will. I learned to understand your swinging, and I can learn to understand this too. Please don't cry."But Bobby's words had the opposite effect. His mother. “As for today’s incident, you have the right to press charges of battery assault.”“But they never touched me,” I said.“They attempted to cause massive bodily harm with a bat and two-by-four. The fact that one of them hit the other rather than you only goes to prove their intentions toward you.”“I’ll be happy to drop the charges if they do,” I said.Mr. Van Dusen nodded. “Sounds fair to me.” Then he closed everything up in his briefcase and stood up.I stood up too and offered my hand to shake.He. , near Friendswood, Indiana, a small town just outside Indianapolis, (part of the U.S.A. mid-west), Aaron a 27 year old, Caucasian male, 5”11” tall (180 cm), 205 pounds (93 Kg), with deep-set blue eyes, broad shoulders, thick arms, long dark-brown hair in a pony tail and a trimmed full-beard, (bared an uncanny resemblance to Jesus of Nazareth,) picked up a friend of his Joseph (Jo-Jo), a buff, stocky 28 year-old Caucasian, 6’1” tall (186 cm), 220 pound (102 Kg), amateur boxer/cage. The worst was that he was no longer a man with a title. Lord Newbury was no more. He could use the title, of course, but it was reduced to a meaningless honorific. Perversely, as a concession to demands from the press barons who'd shafted him more completely than did any Congolese male prostitute, the government of the Republic of England had elected to allow nobles to retain their knighthoods. This was justified on the basis that the title was associated with desert rather than heredity. But.