20 Dollar Fight Yo? (Real)

[TIEdup14]

The rules were simple.

20 dollar fight. No hits below the belt. Whoever says the phrase "I give up" loses.

He lunged at me with the fury of a man who really really wanted 20 dollars. As I braced myself for the impact, I recalled a youtube video I had seen wherein the hero triumphantly cries, "This is how'a [censored] eat!"

My opponent had this same hunger.

Having a 1 foot height disadvantage, I knew I needed to get into close quarters, and fast. As he charged I deftly stepped to the side, while at the same time landing a punch to his stomach.

This was no ordinary punch.

This punch had everything I had-- all of my strength, coupled with all of my anger and hatred at how my own life for the past year. This was it. This was my hate, pure and simple.

With a sickening "oof" my opponent tumbled over. I immediately sprang into action, landing blow after blow upon my fallen foe. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks, or perhaps it was just a pure adrenaline rush. I felt vindicated, as if this simple 20 dollars could (and WOULD) make up for every wrong I'd ever suffered.

But my opponent was hungry.

Drawing upon unheard reserves of strength, he managed to turn over; this time I was the one forced to accept punch after punch. We grappled in this way for a few minutes (hell, it could have been a few hours for all I knew) untill our bodies gave out.

Breathe.

And as if Mills Lane himself were standing ringside, an unheard bell went off in our heads and the fighting resumed. I quickly realized that this war of attrition could not be won-- I had to go for a high pain-inducing, quick hold to end this once and for all. I grabbed his arm, and forced it behind his back. While my kidney took a few for the team, my other hand joined in and I pulled his arm up to meet the back of his head. I pulled with every last ounce of strength I had.

But my opponent was hungry.

Despite the desperate cries of agony, the words "I give up" were not forthcoming. My will to fight was demolished-- not by a punch, but by a lack of words! Again finding strength that only a cornered rat has seen, he flipped me onto my back and mercilessly began to punch my stomach again and again and again and again.

"I give up!"

The silence afterwords was not preplanned. For a second I'm not sure either of us knew who actually uttered those words-- I know I couldnt believe it was me.

He rolled onto his back and sucked in the cool night air, breathing heavily. I instantly sprang to my feet, as if this show of bravado would erase the stain of my defeat. I coldly tossed a 20 dollar bill onto his heaving chest. His eyes were fixed upon the dark sky without focus-- he had saciated his hunger.

And we'll never speak of this again.