Blain_Klitzke-Boss_Fight(Click for MP3)
Response
Pharoah Bolding
Inspiration piece
You would think that after years of fighting men twice her size that Adelaide Primm would have encountered everything a man could throw her way. But as she gazed upon the petite and mousy frame of the gentleman before her she was at a loss for words. His shirt, paisley in hue, was tightly tucked into the waist of his slender tan trousers, akin to the fitted sheet one would find in a five-star hotel. The ankle area of each of the gentleman’s pant legs barely jutted past the top elastic of his argyle socks, leaving a wide margin of space between the tongue of his tan Buster Brown loafers and his hems. The pudginess of the gentleman’s face seemingly mocked the little pin pricks he called eyes, two beady ebon voids framed with extremely thick bifocal lenses. His hair, glistening from what appeared to be a pound of pomade, was neatly and symmetrically parted down the middle, baring a half-inch strip of pale scalp.
In other words, he had no business in a cage fight.
None whatsoever.
With all of that said, however, Adelaide shelved any and all guilt or apprehension she was feeling concerning knocking the crease out of the tiny gentleman’s pant legs because, well, this kind of one- sided fist fight meant that it would be an easy night for her. As she removed her jacket from her broad frame, biceps taut, Adelaide allowed a smile to cross her lips. Get home before ten, have a bubble bath, maybe a pint of Guinness. She cracked her weathered knuckles, pushing her guilt even further back into her psyche by acknowledging that even in defeat her opponent would get a small purse. As she stretched her muscular thighs and calves Adelaide figured that it would be appropriate to just land the necessary blows to knock the tiny little gent across the ring from her out and leave it at that. He was obviously down on his luck; anyone dressed as square as the little guy in front of her who wasn’t desperate for monetary compensation would not dare to venture into the underground fight circuit.
The referee looked toward Adelaide; she acknowledged that she was ready for competition. It was an acknowledgement she quickly wished she could take back . . . because she could have sworn that her opponent never looked scared or uncomfortable. A guy dressed like that not shivering in his boot?
Absurd.
That and he was growing in both stature and musculature at a rate of an inch or two per second.
The once mousey gentleman, his clothing now in shreds as his now rippled physique towered over Adelaide, decided to unleash the biggest, toothiest smile one could smile when their confidence is at an all-time high.
That was when Adelaide realized that she better add a raw steak to that pint of Guinness.
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