Matt Barnes burst through the door of his own house, seething with rage. “Where’s that asshole? Where’s that asshole?” he bellowed, running from room to room. In the guest bedroom, he caught sight of the backyard outside the window. There were people gathered there, and when Matt picked out the face of his enemy, his fury only intensified. “WRAAAAAAAGHHHH!” he yelled, loudly enough that the people in the backyard looked up at the second-story window.
Bolting down the stairs, Matt ripped open the sliding door to the backyard. “I’m going to kick your ass!” he shouted, pointing at Derek Fisher. There was a brief moment where the only sound was Matt’s labored panting. Then, he charged.
Derek was not expecting this action, and moved out of the way too late. He was caught in the side of the chest by Matt’s tackle and hit the ground hard.
“You’ve been screwing my wife, haven’t you? HAVEN’T YOU?” Matt questioned.
“Let me explain,” Derek said.
“NO!” Matt responded, popping Derek in the face with a thrown fist. More punches immediately followed. He expected somebody to try to pull him off Derek, but felt nothing but the stares of the onlookers, a group which included his six-year-old sons. He turned to them and grinned ruthlessly. “Violence is never the answer, but sometimes it is,” he said savagely before returning to his fight.
Derek weakly attempted to shield his face with his hands as a succession of meaty blows pummeled him. Finally, it seemed Matt had had enough, and got off his conquered foe. Derek staggered to his feet, his eyes black, only to get picked up in a fireman’s carry by his former Lakers teammate.
“What are you doing?” Derek asked in a panicked voice, beating on Matt’s back with his fists and kicking his legs.
“We’re going up to the deck,” Matt growled, loudly enough for everybody to hear. The assembled crowd gasped, but did nothing to stop what was transpiring. Matt walked up the stairs calmly.
“Come on man, be reasonable. I’m sorry,” Derek said, tears running down his face and his words interrupted by sobs.
“You’ll really be sorry after this,” Matt said, laughing as he positioned himself close to the railing. “I drove 95 miles to kick your ass. You’re not getting off that easy.” With no further fanfare, he launched his cargo over the edge of the deck. A few seconds later, there was a sickening thump as Derek’s body cracked against the flagstones below.
Derek didn’t move as everybody stared at his body. Then, Matt pulled out a pair of meat tongs from his back pocket. “Who’s ready for some barbecue?”