A Doing You Don’t Deserve
The first hit cracked you right in the nose and made your eyes fill up with tears. You’re not crying, we all know that, it’s just what happens when you catch a brisk one right on the conk. Don’t worry about it, it’s a purely physical response. Nothing emotional. You lie and we’ll all swear to it. You know your nose has been broken before (twice actually) and through the grace of God and blind luck, it was in opposite directions so it kind of, sort of, maybe lines up straight-ish if you look at it from the right angle with the lights turned low.
It always takes your breath away, the first one. The shock flies through your whole body and drags every nerve end in your body straight onto high alert. We all know, bud, we’ve all had our fair share. No shame in that either. Just an unfortunate reality. The main thing is how you respond. Just accept that it’s happened now. It’s not guaranteed that it’s gonna escalate from here but we both know the chances aren’t good. Choice is yours, my man, but we both know that just for once in your life you’re not gonna throw one back. Take a minute and see how it plays out.
Ouch. My bad. Yup, that ones on me, pal. Sorry. Right on the eye socket with the follow up. A glancing blow though, let’s not over-egg the pudding just yet. You’re a tough dude. Look at the nick of your coupon: – the scar tissue is like a poorly done road map. He doesn’t mean it and you can take it. You know as well as I do that there is no way you’re fighting back. You don’t even want to. So just accept it.
Damage limitation, that’s the name of the game. Just minimise the amount of pain that’s gonna be inflicted. This is handbags at five paces. He’s hardly gonna pull a blade on you, is he? Yeah, I’ve probably jinxed it now but what else can you do? Like another knife mark would make a difference to you anyway. Suck it up, buttercup. This isn’t your first rodeo. Stop being such a little girl.
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Hair-grabbing is pretty much taboo in everyone’s books but this is a street-fight. Prison rules apply. Your mum was always telling you to get it cut. Did no one ever tell you to listen to your mum? Tell you something, hombre, you can fit on the back of a postage stamp the number of times she’s been wrong. She said you looked neater and smarter. You feel smarter now, with a nice juicy clump of your mop clutched in his hand? What do you think, superstar?
Not the boots. Oh, man, that’s grim. A big one right in the ribcage. Come on, no one’s bust any bones yet. Don’t be a drama queen. Tough enough to get both sides tattooed but reaching for the waterworks after you’ve been booted once? OK, twice… right, three times but my point still stands. There’s worse things happening to better people.
I don’t care if he’s laughing at you. He’s been laughing all along, dude, and we both knew it. He’s having a whale of a time. Probably the most fun he’s had in ages. Ooooh, a swing and a miss on particularly vicious headbutt. Yeah, of course it’s illegal but I don’t see any ref. And again. Bob and weave, man, float like a butterfly. He’s softening you up some more with another couple of body shots. Try and deflect them or something, I don’t know.
Yup. OK. I winced at that one. A hearty stamp right between the legs. Man oh man. That is not pretty. At least you dodged the follow up I guess. That is not fun for anyone. Sure, your eyes are “just watering”, whatever you say, chief. I know he’s still laughing at you, what can I say? If he’s kicking, heading and stamping below the belt I somehow doubt he’s going to be all ears when I tell him to cut out the giggles, what do you think?
Now that is not something you see everyday. The super-rare and highly illegal eye-poke into fishhook combo. Controversial tactics, I agree. Someone needs to break this up. Getting beyond a joke now, man. Here comes the ref. She’s wearing one towel over her body and has another one perched on top of her head. Yeah, I know she’s smiling, what do you want me to do?
‘Aww, are you two having fun?’ She lifts the baby off you. ‘I could hear him laughing the whole time. He never laughs like that for me.’
Your opponent is writhing against the restraining arms, stretching out back towards you with sharp talons, a wild laugh and a thinly veiled threat. He still wants a piece of you. Sit on your stool and listen to your cornermen. Don’t blow out your nose if it’s broken or your eyes will swell up. Focus on your breathing. He’s won that round but there’s still more to come. Just keep doing what you’re doing.
‘Look, he wants back to you. Aww.’ Your opponent is offered to you. ‘Just hold him another minute while I get dressed.’
Stand up off your stool. Seconds out. Put your gum-guard back in. He’s already throwing haymakers at nothing and wind-milling wildly from the grasps of the (frankly unprofessional) referee. In a hugely controversial move, the ref gives you a kiss before letting your opponent loose straight back into your waiting guard. He heads and kicks to try and get some distance so he can blow raspberries in your face. The referee has squelched off into the bedroom. I ain’t helping you, pal, this is your own problem.
Ding Ding. Round Two.
