Surprising both of us, I used the fork on his arm, and not gently. It was like sticking a fork in a baked potato to see if it was done. He yelped, and both hands flew from my throat as he jerked his body away from me. He clutched his left arm with his right hand, bellowing in pain and rage. He took a few backward steps, suddenly peaceful and apparently no longer wanting (or willing) to strangle me. It appeared this baked potato was done. I was horrified. I had never forked anyone before (or since); I explained that it was my first forking and as I rule I do not fork people. In fact I had
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