Attitude

M. Stanley Bubien

'Tude. Att-it-tude. That's everythin'. I use it in the ring. I say to myself, I'm gonna work this sucker. I'm knockin' him down. I'm knockin' him out!

Round three. I smashed his head usin' a right---made him grunt like the pig boy he was. He shook it off before goin' for me. Sucker swung wild. Knew I had him, though, when that stream of blood spurted out his jaw as my fist mashed up 'gainst his chin.

Be bringin' it home to mama now, baby!

I slammed him, hard like, an' his face bended---his eye swelled up black too. He came on like a bull. I got in another shot to his nose. That made him groan, but he lunged into my arms.

He's 'gainst me, I smelt him, he's so close, and he had me blocked---had to punch wide 'gainst his shoulders---gloves slid off the sweat like nothin'.

That's when I says to myself, "my ear!" like he squeezed in a punch and smacked it against my head bone. Mama, I pushed him! But them gloves slid off like nothin'. And I go to myself, "my ear!" again, but it's the other ear.

The ref jumped in, all wavin' an' shovin' an' callin' the fight an' sayin' it's over.

I touched my ear and winced. My glove came back bloody. S'up wit' that? But I knew right off. That sucker bit me! I was poundin' him---poundin' him in a fair fight---an' he bit me. Holy God! Ws'up wit' that?

Copyright ©1997 M. Stanley Bubien. All Rights Reserved.

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August, 1997 Issue #16

256 Words

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