Fiction 4

Fiction 4
Living Room Fighter

McArthur Blankenship | 19 May 2009 13:41
Fiction 4 - RSS 2.0

I grabbed two fistfuls of his knotted, curly hair and held his head against my chest - this seemed to make his attempts at punching me in the kidneys much less effective. Then I felt a sharp pain in my chest and realized he was biting my pec. Not wanting to lose a nipple, I let go of his head, which gave him an opening to hit me in the stomach as hard as he could.

The world seemed to turn colors - a brilliant orange and red - as I lay there stunned. I was dimly aware that he was punching me in the face with his meaty fists. It seemed like ages before I could catch my breath. When I did, I was overcome by blinding pain and an awareness that I needed to get out from under Jonas.

I grasped for a weapon of some sort and found the controller I had discarded at the beginning of the fight. I swung in a wide arc and connected with his left ear. He toppled over onto the linoleum, and I immediately took to rhythmically bashing his face: "Chill [smack] the [smack] f**k [smack] out [smack]." I punctuated my emphatic recommendation with a heavy blow to the mouth.

I dropped the controller, unsure if I had won the fight or if I had gone too far. He pushed me off of him, and we both took a moment to breathe and get our bearings. Then Jonas stood up shakily.

"Round two, fag?"

"Bring it on, dickwad." I motioned as I imagined Bruce Lee would have.

He ran at me, knocking over an end table and pulling me down with him. After a minute of grappling, I was losing strength. I broke free and threw another punch that landed softly in his stomach. I could feel my arms shaking. Jonas grabbed me once more and escalated from grappling to choking, but he was getting weaker as well.

"You're gonna die!" he said, grunting and panting heavily. I didn't have the wind in my lungs for a retort; he really was choking the life out of me. Then, in one panicked burst, I broke free of his grasp and landed a brutal knee to his groin.

The fight was over. I was vaguely aware that I had broken some men's Geneva Convention article, but survival was worth going before The Hague. Jonas fell to his knees and vomited all over the floor.

My relief quickly gave way to guilt. I had won the fight, but at what cost? Did I have to take Jonas to the hospital? Were the police on their way?

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Then I heard Jonas laughing faintly. "Flawless victory," he chuckled. I followed his gaze back to the TV where this lunacy had begun. The words were still emblazoned across the screen from our last battle. "Good thing we weren't playing Mortal Kombat, or it would say 'Finish Him,'" Jonas laughed as he reclined against the couch, clutching his groin.

"Dude, I'm so sorry," I said, wiping the blood from my nose with my shirtsleeve.

"It's cool. I was being an asshole. I deserved it." He split a bloody smile. "So, what do you want to play now?"

"Something else. You got GTA?"

In battle, Seth N. Able prefers the heft and balance of the "Duke" Xbox controller.

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