Any self respecting project housing development (think Boyz in the Hood, or better yet the Geto Boys vid for "My Mind is Playing Tricks on Me") has a "washeteria". It's that little shack with four seventy five-cent washers, four fifty-cent dryers, and, lest we forget, a rickety old folding table.
It's 1989 (or somewhere around there) and Darrel, Ray-Ray, Poochie, and I are playing around in the aforementioned washeteria (euphemism for your author being stuffed mercilessly into a dryer) when the "instance of instances" breaks out: A fight among "the big kids".
Half-way into the dryer my captors run toward "the field"; an open field with a street and a bayou on its sides where all the kids played football. I struggle my way out of the dryer and make my way to the growing audience.
It's Tony (one of Poochie's brothers) and he's kicking this other kid's ass. Hardcore. Suddenly, Tony has a change of heart. He apologizes to the guy, extends his hand, helps the guy up, then kicks his ass all over again.
Cheap Shot 1989.