Speechless

Lessons Much Needed

Chapter Two: Lessons much needed

            Tobacco teeth was the first to lunge at me.   

      I swiftly sidestepped out of the way and when he realized he could not stop his lanky momentum, he made contact with a stop sign that permanently branded itself onto his face. The collision caused him to fall flat on the ground and me to let out a small chuckle. 

         That was until I saw a fist that resembled a massive meatloaf swinging straight towards my face from the right. I couldn't comprehend it for a while, it was like I was watching the scene on tv with the securities that came with it. But I snapped out of it. This fist was real and it was headed straight for my face.

           I dodged to the left. Chubster numero dos took a swing to my abdomen and knocked me back into a cluster of wet, grease-laden cardboard boxes infested with various rodents. I grimaced like I was trying to suck on a Lemonhead and keep it down but I didn't want to show any weakness. That's what streetfighting was about, staying strong above all else. The facade you have to keep up.

            Despite the blow my eyes were calm and quick. They found a broken tetherball rope on the ground still attached to the pole that was only two feet away from the charging twins that looked like they were trying to escape their pig slaughter. The ball was missing. It was perfect.

          I sprinted to the rope and pulled it across the twins’s feet with my own foot as they approached and before they noticed what I was doing, they fell to the ground with their arms flailing. The impact to the ground, I’m sure, had the potential to cause an earthquake.

          Next came the guy with the “piss-poor” attitude, I said to myself with a smile at my own horrible pun. My smile quickly disappeared when I noticed how damn quick the midget was.        

         Left….right…right, no left! His movements mimicked a hummingbird, his arms were so fast that they were pretty much invisible to me. My dodges were weak and the punk got in a couple of jabs but the fact of the matter was that that was all they were, jabs so weak that doctors would compare flu shots to it to soothe a nervous child. But I soon I caught the punk’s pattern I had him.

            Left, dodge right.

            Right, dodge left.

            Two more lefts and then some more dodges. Then came the upper hook that would have caught me off-guard. But I was ready. I caught his puny little hand and twisted his arm so far back that it would make a man without bones cry for his mother.

            “Fuck man, stop! Please,” he screamed as he tried to struggle out of my grip even though it was useless. I showed no sympathy and held his arm so far back that it almost reached his legs.

        But then I heard a clatter from a string of beer cans and was so surprised that I heard a disgusting pop and then a blood-curdling screech as pee-for-brains hit the ground and immediately fell unconscious.

            I turned to where the noise had come from just in time to barely miss the swipe of a knife that was initially headed straight for my face. Damn! I missed the fifth hoodlum who apparently decided to lurk in the shadows, waiting for the moment he could bring out a knife. Well I say coward! But if that’s the way he wanted to play it then fine, I could still take him down with my eyes closed; a sharpened piece of metal doesn’t change matters.

        So no-more-mister-knife-guy and I danced. For minutes we would just stare at each other intimidatingly like sumo wrestlers. My gaze never faltered though I could tell that knifey was twitching inside. A devious smile was permanently transfixed on my face powered by adrenaline and the excitement of feeling alive once again. I could laugh.

              Then he sprang up like a slinky and thrusted the only thing giving him courage towards me in an effort to slay the person who had just taken down the rest of his pathetic “gang.” After a while this became tiresome. Knifey was, figuratively, puking enough fear to make it satisfactory enough for my thirst for blood. So I finished the job.

            Kicking the knife out of his hand with one swift motion from my left leg, I turned my elbow so that it would make direct contact with the top of his head and leave him moaning on the ground. The promise of a severe concussion was good enough for me.

             I looked back at the scene before I left. Everybody was on the floor, some groaning in pain and others unconcious, oblivious as to the fact that they had just been used as my punching bags. The feeling of fufillment cleared the air that was too often clouded by frustration, I could breathe again. For this one glorious moment I was alive.

           Careful not to break any more bones that were already a hopeless cause I made my way to the other side of the alley, continuing my journey to the gas station. There was not a single scratch on me and I was in a terribly good mood. These things can really keep a guy satisfied. The day started to brighten up.

And it was only 8:00.