Arguements

Rock was seated in a large, theater-style college classroom. There were no more than ten others with him so he assumed they were lounging between classes. The others. Not he. Rock wasn't sure why he was there. This was his first appearance in a college classroom in almost exactly twenty-nine years. An acquaintance from the Little Rock Hash named John Conn sat down a row in front of him, two seats to his left. Conn looked back toward Rock and in a angry tone said, "Hey, motherfucker, why are going around giving me all this shit for writing about you on Facebook? Fuck, man, I did it, what, maybe two of three times?"
Before Rock could reply, Conn had become someone else, a vaguely familiar graduate student from Fayetteville. Rock remembered from the mid-1980s. He was as angry as Conn. "I can't stand all you fucking pussies who love the goddamn three-point shot so much. It's fucking ruined basketball," he said.
Rock was confused. "What are you talking about? I'm no fan of the three-point shot."
"You're fucking lying. I remember. You loved it. You fucking love it."
In truth Rock hadn't seriously considered the three-point shot since 1986, when the college game first adopted it, and couldn't remember his first impressions other than he thought perhaps the college line should've been placed further back, more like where the pros had theirs. All he knew for sure was that this was getting weird.