Writer's Block: Day Two

This Mongol was gonna do it, right here in th' middle o' th' street. He had a gun in his hand an' held my shirt in his clenched fist. I growled, "You ain't got a clue who yer messin' with, son. Lemme tell ya somethin', I ain't your 'brother', an' I never will be, an' if you so much as look at me wrong again, I don't mind breakin' yer neck." Broke his hold an' stepped back outta reach. "An' what was it ya told me? A friendly warnin'? You ever come near this daycare again, I'll eat ya alive."