he was smart or lucky

I was in a rage, and he could not be at his house when I was going to get my things. I'm not sure to this day whether his buddy just happened to stop by or if he called him and asked him to be there in his stead, but either way it prevented some serious destruction of property. I gathered up my things, and stripped the bed of its lovely sun-yellow sheets which I had paid for and they had defiled. I might have set them on fire, or gone in the yard and scooped up as much rabbit shit and dumped it on the stripped bed as I could. I was white hot angry when I came across a shirt that could only have belonged to her...and tore it apart with my bare hands. Every present I ever gave him, I suddenly wanted to strip him of and deprive him even though the gesture would never even come close to the betrayal he had dealt me. His friend's presence forced my civility, and though I resented it at the time I suppose I should be grateful that I could not be arrested or brought up on charges or fined or anything. The witness kept me from going ballistic.