George (Five)

Busted Nose, he swung real wide, barely missed me, almost hit the lockers. I felt the Bubble come up as I slipped underneath his swing, gave him a 1-2 to his gut. I felt it more than he did. He tried bringing both his elbows down on my head, but I stepped back, jabbed his chin, followed with a left hook to his temple, a right to his jaw that knocked his slick hair forward.

He staggered, so I turned around. Punks were coming at me side by side. Real scrawny, but the corridor was too narrow. They both couldn't swing their bats.

Busted Nose, he wrapped me up with arms like a bear, hugged me off the ground like he was gonna love me to death. Slobs came in with their bats high. I kicked my feet off the ground, then kicked them both in their chests while Busted Nose still had me. They dropped their bats, and them bats hitting the ground sounded like a car engine cooling off.

Meanwhile, punk behind me kept squeezing, and I started seeing pinpoints of light. Threw my bald head back, felt his jaw smash closed, felt a tooth carve into me. He just pulled tighter. Tried again, and this time his nose smushed and crackled. He bent his back now so my feet left the ground. I laid into him a third time. This time, I really felt it, and my brain felt like it was caught in a dishwasher.

He dropped me on my can, just when the slobs in front of me scrambled to their feet. Now they came one behind the other, and I felt kinda like Bruce Lee. Why them slobs he fought never all went at him at the same time, I don't know. It's Bruce Lee, you gotta outnumber him to beat him. All I knew was that it was gonna be fun.

First one tried to use his bat like a pool cue, poking at me. I swatted it aside, 2 jabs to the face followed by a gut punch. He sounded like he was gonna dry heave, so I popped him in the chest. He fell back, collapsed into the other punk. They were wailing like babies.

Then Broken Nose wanted to dance. Blood draining from his nose like an open faucet, his shirt looked like he'd been doing back alley surgery. He was huffing through his mouth, which sounded a whole bunch better than his nose wheezing.

I reached back, wiped his blood off my head, flung it at him. Told him he might want some back, since he was losing so much.

He rushed, like every other slob would. I got in an orthodox stance, cocked my fist, stepped forward and crashed an overhand right into his face.

Not sure when he passed out, but you don't stop that much meat on a dime. Runaway mack truck, he bombed into me. We fell backwards onto the punks, and then they really learned what it was like to go full-on dame and started crying.