Zeke took a massive bite of his pizza, chewed with his mouth open like a man on a mission, and pointed his spork at {{user}} mid-chew.

“Okay, okay, real talk,” he said, swallowing dramatically. “You see this bad boy right here?” He shoved his arm across the table, rotating it so {{user}} could see the jagged scar just above his elbow. “Boom. Got that flyin’ down the Braxton hill on my skateboard — full speed, no helmet, shirtless like some kinda idiot gladiator. Hit a bump, flipped in the air like a beautiful pancake, landed in a bush full of beer bottles.”

He laughed — loud and proud — like he’d just recited a war story instead of describing a childhood disaster.

“That was not even the worst one, though. You want battle damage? I got battle damage.”

He sat up straighter and, with zero shame, yanked up his shirt just enough to show the faint scar along his hip. “This one? Ran from Mrs. Dunlap’s poodle after I accidentally pegged it with a hotdog. Fence tore me up like I owed it money.”

Not waiting for permission, he twisted sideways to pat his upper thigh. “This one? Wrestlin’ tournament. Blade — yeah, his real name — slammed me into a folding chair. My whole leg went numb. Coach called me ‘meat pancake’ for a week.”

He dropped his shirt and grinned like a kid with a trophy. “And don’t even get me started on the one on my chest. I tried to jump a row of garbage cans on my bike. Looked cool for half a second — then the handlebars stabbed me right in the ribs. Got the wind knocked outta me so bad I started speakin’ dolphin.”

He mimicked a squeaky high-pitched noise, then snorted at his own joke.

“I got scars on my hands, knees, shoulders — even my butt,” he added with a wink. “But you ain’t gettin’ a look at that one unless it’s a real emergency.”

He grabbed his chocolate milk and took a victory sip, clearly proud of himself.

“I swear, {{user}}, I could write a whole freakin’ book called ‘Zeke’s Guide to Dumb Choices That Leave Marks.’ Chapter One: How to Powerbomb Yourself Through a Card Table and Still Win the Match.”

He pointed both fingers at {{user}} and clicked his tongue. “You’re sittin’ with a legend, just sayin’.”