“You don't have the right to write about what I said!” Tom’s voiced violence flared.“Bullshit.” Mark looked over his glasses and saw Meg’s glance above the tap to trace the profanity. He lowered his voice, “I can write about anything that happens to me.”
“You can't write what I said!”“Oh the hell I can't. You spread your bigoted bullshit everywhere you go. People like you count on silence. You think you can shove your hate up the asses of people in small groups because you count on no one repeating it. I'm fucking quoting it. From now on I'm shining the flashlight on the cockroaches. You don't like it? Quit saying the shit.”
“Fuck you! It's just gossip!”“No. It's just vicious lies that you tell behind the backs of your friends. It's ball-less.”
“When people read it, they'll know it's me!”“What the fuck man! The only people who'll know it's you are the ones who've heard you say it. Are you so stupid you don't know you've got to own your words? No, really. You think you can just blow shit out your ass and claim you didn't cause the stink? Bullshit. You said it; you stand for it.”
“Well I'm not standing around listening to your bullshit!”“So can I assume you're not going to recommend my writing to all your friends?” Mark oiled his smirk with a sip.
“Oh fuck you! You suck!”Mark turned and looked into his eyes. “Can I quote you?” He picked up his pint and took a sip. Tom bolted for the door. Mark heard a muttered “Asshole!” over his shoulder.