It was late into the evening and onlookers continued to gather. "Where did he go?", one of the bystanders questioned with a haunting curiosity. Little was to be known of Boxy's whereabouts, but with each passing minute, the anticipation of his resurface was growing handsomely. Some folks in the crowd began to ponder how he could possibly gather the humility to show his face in this thread again.
"Doncha worry bout me' Boxy", a drunken lad bellowed from a stool in the back. "I seen him eat them words with a side of humble pie a many times in the past." The slurred defense from the local drunk wasn't the reassurance this mob needed. "So Boxy made an ass of himself.. What next, you're going to tell me the sky is blue?" a sarcastic jab from a smart-ass whose patience was wearing thin. Yes, as pretentious as it was, it was a fair point. This was hardly the first of times Boxy had made a complete and utter ass of himself. However, this was, put quite simply -- different. To be dismantled 10-1 merely days after such pompous and unwarranted cockiness -- the doubt was increasing more, and more as the night marched on.
As much as the locals hoped to see his face again, few would blame him for disappearing into the abyss after a week like this.