There's something masochistic about getting your ass handed to you and, instead of whimpering for mercy, saying something like "Is that all you got?" Masochistic in a good way. Masochistic in a way I can relate to. And no matter how many pretzel shapes Prep twists Tak into or how many times Prep slams his fist to Tak's tight abs, Tak talks even more shit, daring Prep to give him his worst ... and Prep brings it. It all reminds me of this big guy I used to wrestle in the dorms in my bible college days. I never stood a prayer against him, but I kept coming back for more. I guess I loved how that guy kicked my ass. Our drawn-out, late-night bouts were the flesh-and-sweat embodiments of the fire-and-brimstone jeremiads our preacher dished out to us on Sunday mornings.
Tak is like one of those bad guys, staring down the hole of Clint Eastwood's .44 Magnum and saying stuff like "You don't have the balls to pull the trigger, Harry." After that, bang and splat is all she wrote. And kudos to Prep for looking and acting like the living personification of Ezekiel 27:17, never read better than by Samuel L. Jackson: "I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and fu-u-urious anger." The tough newcomer's got a black and righteously severe haircut, square-cut camouflage trunks, a lion tattooed on his right shoulder and a passage from the Psalms on his right thigh. He's a backslid malefactor's wet dream. He looks as hot as the Day of Judgment, and his tireless beatings of Tak are like flashbacks to my bygone masochistic days as a fundamentalist Christian (we might have all been crazy as shithouse rats back then, but, damn, you can't say there wasn't something sinisterly sexy about it all). "I am the man who has seen affliction by the rod of his wrath" (Lamentations 3:1). And is that, I ask you, all you got?