That Guy
	Nearly all of us have “that one guy” in our lives who does things without thinking. They're always passionate about anything and everything they do. They're always naïve and totally gullible.  Hell, we could be “that one guy”. For me, my friend Andrew is “that guy”.
	Andrew tends to pick up and parrot anything that he finds “cool”, but always manages to do so in the most laughably goofy way possible. For example, one time he mimicked Charles Bronson when he was challenged to a fight. Or  the time he regularly wore a duster while blasting Kenny Loggins in his car for a month straight. This time though, the flavor of the month was arm wrestling.
	Not long after beginning to exercise, Andrew had picked up arm wrestling. He was quickly enamored with the television program “Game of Arms,” a documentary series which glorifies arm wrestling. Soon enough, he began to only work out on his arms and upper body, claiming it was, “all he needed.” He became fixated on the idea that all he only required “mass” to become the best arm wrestler, which he quickly gained by eating two Double Western Bacon Cheeseburgers every other morning.
	Andrew was not alone in his passion for arm wrestling though. His old rival had learned about his exercise, and soon, he and Andrew would arm wrestle every morning. They would always be neck and neck, and regularly draw crowds in their heated clashes.
	Andrew had been on a losing streak as of late though. Being the beacon of wisdom that I am, I decided to teach Andrew a proper technique, involving leverage in his entire arm. It was a secret technique that, as I told him, could hurt him if used improperly. It was my biggest mistake.
	 The next day, Andrew's rival showed up and challenged him to the daily arm wrestling match. With gusto, Andrew cried, “Let this be our final battle!,” and they had begun. The crowd had arrived, just on schedule. This match, however, was more fierce than usual: beads of concentration slid down Andrew's temple as both their faces turned beet red. They were both shaking, each trying to gain some edge over the other in this contest of might, this Game of Arms. It looked as if Andrew was losing, when I cheered, “Technique! Remember the secret technique!” Oh, how I wish I hadn't said that.
	You see, the secret technique uses leverage, and primarily relies on the rest of the user's body. While Andrew had bulked up with cheeseburgers and arm curls, his rival had bulked up using proper lifting and good diet. The technique can quickly turn against its user if implemented  against the wrong opponent. Unfortunately, Andrew wasn't the type to give up.
	With a glint in his eye, Andrew leaned forward. There was a brief struggle. And then a loud “CRACK” split the tension as his arm jolted left ever so slightly. The sound was akin to a splitting tree branch, but more spongy and sudden. The cheering had stopped as everyone went quiet. The rival had dropped Andrew's hand but was visibly beginning to panic. Andrew's mouth was agape and his eyes were fixated on his arm, as if he couldn't believe what he'd witnessed. There was a brief moment where none of us believed it either. When I slowly came to my senses after what had seemed like ages, I leaned over to my friend Jack and whispered,”Get the fucking nurse.”
	The next few moments were hectic. As Andrew had begun to moan in pain, my friend and I sprinted to retrieve the nurse. When we returned, she immediately tried to locate the site of the break, at the same time comfort Andrew. She first asked him,”Are you alright?” Andrew, now in excruciating pain, only whimpered with a subtle,”I BROKE MY FUCKING ARM.”
	Afterward, the bell had finally rung to begin class. Jack stayed behind, as only one of us was able to stay. In class, I received updates on the situation through texts. Andrew was loaded up on to a gurney as paramedics arrived. Apparently his last words before he blacked out from anesthesia, his arm outstretched in drama, were,“Jack, I'm sorry.” Even half conscious he's goofy.
	Andrew later made a full recovery with a plate in his arm and an admittedly neat scar that he won't stop showing off because he thinks it's manly. He now mostly eats salads and properly exercises. We all learned that day to work out and eat the right way; we also learned to know when to give up in a fight.
	None of us have arm wrestled since nor want to.