Donna Vs. Goliath

 

Donna was drinking water but the crowd was still loosing it. Outside the cage, they were ten rows deep and screaming for blood. She remembered when this was all new and exciting.

It was all because she wrecked Ned’s car in an argument with a thug. If that thug didn’t know judo, Donna wouldn’t have BUICK imprinted on her back and she wouldn’t have to rush to get it fixed before Ned came home. So she ended up back in underground cage fighting. The purse was $3000. which if her memory served her meant that she would come home with $1250. It was billed as Donna vs Goliath. Her opponent did not disappoint. Round 1 had been Hell.

Round 2.

Back and to the left, Donna was moving into his past while the hulking bastard was making hay with his southpaw. She made a quick couple of ax kicks that he barely registered . She had originally planned a series of rabbit punches, but it quickly became clear this was a game of evasion on her part. Being that she stood a head less than his shoulders and weighed a quarter his mass, she had to keep her distance.

His right came down with a jab and she feinted to the left, a breath from a broken nose. With as much force as he exuded just to move, momentum was a problem for him. He watched the future unfold as he passed her. There was a push to his shoulder and suddenly he was tumbling. She felt sorry, impotence was something she was acquainted with.

On his knees, he wasn’t screaming but his face was filled of agony. The obviously reset nose, the large loud scars revealed by a receding hairline, the two front teeth missing: it all spoke of a man that has been beaten before. Gravity was an enemy of his and getting really friendly with arthritis. Regardless of the pain, he was getting up and Donna was frozen, wishing she was smart enough to remember to tap.

He bounded towards her and the whole damn warehouse shook. He came with the exact same jab. She would have been offended but she was to busy being assaulted. The force knocked her backwards like a Hollywood bullet. Her head came down first at a just wrong angle. The blood started to pool out. The match was over and the gate opened. The doctor checked her pulse and then promptly ran like a bat out of hell.

When you have a death in these sort of things, it is best to leave quickly. Dead bodies are no fun and neither is prison. Most of the people did just that. Someone was nice enough to give Ted his money, well throw it at him. The cheap briefcase exploded on his back but he didn’t feel it. He was staring down at a dead woman he was assured could take care of herself. She was just a little thing, he was such an idiot. Ted realized he had killed again.

“Damn.” Damn meant the world.

“Orange juice” The voice was sleepy and half there.

“What?”

Donna propped herself up slightly in order to reiterate. Ted was watching something incredible.

“I’m s’posed to get orange juice and a cookie.” She fell back to the cement.

‘Sure, sure, oh god, how are you?”

“Terrible, in need of food, drink.”

“I meant how are you… never mind what I meant.” There was something wired in Ted that had a bias towards requests especially requests from the recently deceased. He turned to find bills scattered across the floor. He quickly started shoving them into the now non locking briefcase. He looked back at her with an epiphany.

“Do you want to learn how to dance?”

“No dance. Food.”

“I’ll split the purse.”

“Fine, food first. Dance later.”

Ted ran to his hatchback hoping that she wouldn’t extinguish before he got her orange juice.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Carson Margedant
    Mar 14, 2011 @ 07:48:55

    I try to make the stories as stand alone as I can, but there is an overlying arc, it starts here.

    Reply

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