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The Boxers

Posted on Saturday, September 5, 2009 in pulp, Stories

Both fighters are in their corners now. In the blue, a lanky black kid with a little goatee and a huge Afro is doing an Ali shuffle, showing off for the crowd. In the opposite corner, a Mexican guy with a three-day stubble of beard is taking last minute instructions from his cornerman.

The ref calls the fighters to ring center. The black dude gets right up in the Mexican guys face, trying to do the old psychout job on him. The Mex looks down at the ground. refusing the stare down. At the ref finishes reading the rules, both fighters return to their corners. The Mex gets down on one knee and does a Hal Mary.

The bell rings. Both fighters come out fast. The black dude is quick, but his punches are wild. The Mex is catching most of them on his gloves. But the black keeps lunging in. Out in the audience a huge, fat colored woman—obviously the kid’s mother—is bouncing up and down in her chair and screaming at the top of her lungs. “Hit him, sonny! Knock his block off!”

Just before the bell, the Mex wades in and digs a pretty good hook to the back guy’s liver, which buckles his knees for a second. “Shake it off baby!” Shake it off!” his mamma hollers.

In Round Two, you can see that the black guy is already tired. The Mex is starting to connect with some pretty good jabs now. “C’mon sonny—you can do it!” the black guy’s mamma yells. She’s eating a hot dog and pieces of it are flying out of her mouth all over the woman in front of her.

The black guy is backpedaling now, trying to cover up, but suddenly the Mex connects with a whistling right to the temple and the black goes down on one knee. He bounces right back up, but you can see his legs aren’t there anymore.

The Mex smells blood. He wades in, face squared to his chest. Little slit eyes looking upward like a crab, searching out his quarry.  The black steps in and lets go with a wild right. The Mex ducks, takes a little step inside and comes in with a choppy right to the black’s left jaw. A crunching uppercut follows. It’s not quite on the mark. It catches the black in the throat instead of on the chin. He goes down on one knee now, clutching his throat and gasping for air.

He’s not getting up—that’s clear. He’s on his back now, clutching his throat and making these awful hacking noises. The ref kneels down to see if the guy is OK, while a fat white haired doctor with a grey plaid sport coat jumps into the ring. They drag the black guy to his corner. All the while he’s still gasping and retching.

Out in the crowd, his mother buries her face in her hands.

The audience is silent now. Everybody’s watching the kid. A strange transformation has come over him now. He’s no longer the tough, cocky fighter who strutted around the ring. Now he’s just a young kid, scared and hurt.

And then a terrible thing happens. The kid starts to cry—the humiliation and the pain of it all has gotten to him. The audience is silent, uncomfortable. This is definitely not cool. It puts a damper on the bloodlust. The announcer sees this, and begins babbling into the mike.

Now the ring girl—a sumptuous blonde with monstrous silicone tits, which are barely covered by a tiny bikini—parades around the ring. The audience, eager to escape the ugly drama taking place in the corner, begins to hoot and holler.

The black kid’s mother gets up and goes over to his corner. He’s stopped crying now, and he’s escorted tout of the ring and back to the dressing room.

The lights dim. The big tits girl finishes her walk around the ring to a host of catcalls from the crowd. The next two fighters climb into the ring. The crowd screams, relieved that things have returned to normal. Somebody throws a cupful of Pepsi into the ring, which barely misses the announcer.

Out in the crowd, the chair where the black kid’s mother sat is empty, save for a half eaten hot dog and a worn looking instamatic camera.

Pretty soon, two little kids trot by, their arms full of popcorn, cokes and candy. One of the kids spies the camera. They eyeball each other for a sec, then the first kid grabs the camera and then they both scoot off—lickety split—into the crowd.

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Bring on the comments

  1. Linda Lafond says:

    interesting read: just stopped by…

  2. hymie says:

    thanks, buddy….

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