The Dangerous Kind & Other Stories by Robert Chazz Chute

little witnesses. “Lower your voice and exit the field, please.”
    “You haven’t got over our little parking lot drama, have you, Coach? Just yank him out of the net, put him on offense and I’ll go sit down.”
    “This is just a practice and it’s for everybody.”
    “If he’s stuck in net, it’s a waste of his time. And mine.”
    “He’s in Under Seven Soccer. At this stage, it’s fine to waste his time.”
    “I’m over seven,” she said.
    He looked around, embarrassed. The kids were standing still, watching the argument. Murmurs and whispers came from the assembly of parents in the stands. He called for a break early and directed the kids to the cooler full of water bottles at the edge of the field again. The kids melted away slowly and all the while she stood in front of him with her arms crossed. Jack wondered if anyone had ever refused her anything.
    Before he could speak she spun and started heading back to the stands. “Stupid bitch,” she said, loudly enough for all to hear.
    She was only two steps away. He hissed his message out to her in a whisper the breeze brought only to her ear. “A-T-A-6-6-7,” he said slowly.
    She spun again and headed straight for him, less than a foot from his nose. “What did you say?” Her hands were fists. He expected that at any moment, she would punch him.
    “I said, ‘A-T-A 6-6-7.’ ”
    “And what am I supposed to think that means, dickhead?”
    “It means I know your car. With that I can find your house. In fact, I can find you anywhere.”
    She blinked and her mouth dropped.
    “Are you actually threatening me?”
    She was judge and jury. What she didn’t know was that he was the executioner. Dr. Circe Papua herself had praised him for his skill. He didn’t have the doctor’s gift of persuasion, but perhaps he could borrow a page from her book with effective results.
    “You must listen very carefully,” he said.
    “Yeah? I must, must I?”
    “Shut up. Let me explain something to you.”
    “Anything else?” she looked amused. 
    “People don’t listen,” the bearded man in red had said. And he was so right. People walked around in civilization as if the world had been made safe for them. Nervous little squirrels eating frantically while keeping their eyes sharp for hawk shadows? They understood the world so much better than human prey.
    He wanted to slap Peroxide Woman across the face and wipe the blood from her nose on her bleached white sweater.
    “I know you,” Jack said. “I see you lots of places. You’re the kind of person who has one attitudinal setting.” He kept his voice low so the kids and the other parents could not hear him. “You don’t have a lot of varied responses. You’re either satisfied things are going perfectly your way or you’re a bitch.”
    He was sure she was just on the edge of hitting him then and he wondered what the societal etiquette was. If a woman hits you first, can you defend yourself and hit her back? And what if you lose control, say, and accidentally crush her windpipe in the process with one strike with the heel of your hand? Just because you’re the kids’ friendly soccer coach now doesn’t mean you aren’t also a guy who’s wound so tightly you can hardly wait for Dr. Papua to call on your peculiar talents again. 
    His head began to throb. He could feel the pulse pounding loudly in his left ear again. It was a danger sign the shrill woman in front of him could not see or hear. If she knew, she’d scurry back to the stands and grab her children and keep running. If this went badly, his mask could fall to the ground. He could turn into the other thing right here and he would be of no use to Dr. Papua in her exploration of the mysteries. He had to tamp down his natural impulses. I am what I pretend to be. Or, like he told the kids in his charge, Use your words.
    “You have two choices,” Jack said.
    “Get you fired for threatening me or get you arrested for threatening me? I think I’ll