5 Minute Freewrite (Black belt): You can't argue with a flannel clad man.

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Matthew sat down on the log next to his father, Terry. The older man was clad in all kinds of flannel, and he didn't so much wear a beard, but a beard wore him. He was a kindly fellow, and the product of hard work. At times, he could be acused of having worked too hard.

Matthew was silent. He knew what this chat was about. He wanted to give up on his dream to become a log splitting champion. He simply believed he didn't have the physique nor the stamina it would take to chop the trees faster than any of the other men in the town.

Terry began: When I was your age, I would get beat up by all the local ruffians. I had two choices, to let myself be beat, or to rise to the occasion.

Terry trailed off, and Matthew was reciting the speech, nearly word perfect in his head. Terry finally got to his punchline, 'and it was all worthwhile when I got my black belt, and karate whacked his ass back to the waterhole it came from'.

Matthew knew the moral; being didactic was his father's thing. 'I guess I should go practise'.