Carlson & I; we wound up beating the crap out of Stone. Draw your own conclusions from the parallel.
Our gym teacher, Mr. McCormick, was an old Marine veteran; his “rule” was that if you had a problem with another student, you go to the locker room to settle it among yourselves. You just couldn’t do it in the gym during class. It’s too bad you can’t do that today.
My younger brother and I are only ten-and-one-half months apart and fought pretty-near non-stop for several years. One day my dad got so tired of it he laid the garden hose in a square on the front lawn, made us put on boxing gloves, and wail on each other until we could no longer raise our hands. It's as vivid a memory for me as your group beatdown of poor, defenceless Jeff Stone.