The Party Place

The hit connected like solid gold bar to the bridge of his nose--smashing it flat and cracking it like a twig under the pressure and force of my clenched fist. I stepped back and threw a left cross, landing it on his slack jaw. I saw his eyes glass over, his mind and body going numb from pain. He dropped, the cut strings of a marionette, landing in drunken sweaty lump on the dirty blue beer stained floor; his girlfriend yelling and screaming at me:

"You killed him! You killed him goddamnit!"

"All he needed to do was show me his ID," I yelled, shouting over Van Halen's 'Hot for Teacher' as it blasted over my right shoulder from the PA.

I bent down to pick him. His biker bitch spat on me, then pulled off a spike heeled and took a swing at me. I blocked, then connected with un uppercut that lifted her up and off the dance floor, dropping her about 3 feet back onto table, breaking it, pitchers of beer flying, patrons yelling,"What the Hell man!"

I shouted, "I got your next round!"

Now I had two bloody drunks to clean up. I bent down to pick up the little woman as she came out of her punch-fight haze. Confused,

she looked up at me, her mouth and teeth bloody and trembling, "Don't you know you're not suppose to hit a lady?"

I replied, "Where I was standing I didn't see a lady."