| BATTLE ROYALE 2 By James (jimjunior2001@yahoo.com) “My wife is amazing,” Jim told a friend on the phone. “I mean she gets up every morning, stretches, and then goes and runs five miles. Then, when she gets home, she spends a half hour practicing martial arts. And now, while we’re talking, she’s downstairs kicking the crap out of some big fellow who’s three times as heavy as she is. Absolutely unbelievable. Oh, she’s coming up now; talk to you later.” Jill came upstairs first, followed by her beaten adversary. He was hobbling, in considerable pain, and almost in tears. He was a giant of a man, over 300 pounds, while she weighed in a little over 150. Jim looked inquisitively at the man. “Honey, he looks familiar; do I know him?” “You know his brother; remember the Smasher?” “Yes, I do; that’s his brother?” “Mm-mh. Yes, he is. He thought he was going to get some revenge on me today for what I did to his brother; didn’t he?” Jill said like a mother teasing her kid. While she said this, she tugged on his lips. She did that for a few seconds and then let go. She asked for Jim’s help to escort him to his car. They led him out, each supporting one of his shoulders. When they got to his car, he let out a cry as he noticed a dent in his car. Jill and Jim let go as he suddenly found a burst of energy and hurried to his new ’07 car, where he crouched over and examined a good sized dent on his passenger’s side door. Jim looked over at Jill, who smiled back at him while holding up her fist. Jim knew that Jill had decided to have a little fun. The man turned around and started to say something, but he was so frustrated, he could not get the words out. He simply reached for his keys, went around to the passenger’s side, got in, and took off. “Do you think he’ll ever think that it was your little elegant fist that put that dent in his precious baby?” “I don’t think he knows what to think anymore.” Jill replied, smiling. The two hugged and exchanged kisses for a moment and then headed back in the house. When they got back in, they both sat at the kitchen table, and Jill proceeded to explain the fight. When we got down to the basement, he was cursing his brother, explaining he could not believe he could lose a fight to a girl. I guess you could say he was cursing at the end, too, but for different reason. He was calling me a broad at the beginning, but by the end, I was a bitch. Anyway, I will admit he got the best of me at first because he jumped on me, and got me to the ground. He was kneeling over me with his hands around my neck. He thought he had me. He was smiling, laughing, you name it. He stopped when he realized my elbows were pushing out on his muscular arms. Eventually they were so far out he lost his grip on my neck and he started to crouch over. He was met then by my fists which were clenched together and I got a hammerblow right into his nose. That sent him back a bit, but before he had a chance to re-group, I reached up and grabbed a hold of his ear with my left hand and I reached under his left armpit with my right. I pulled with my left and pushed with my right, and boy was he hurting now. My little body parts were nestled right in two of his more sensitive areas. With my hands in good position, and using my legs, too, I managed to throw him off me, and I actually held on to his ear, while I gave him another punch to the nose with my right after removing it from his armpit. I got up, and motioned him to bring on something else. He was obviously shocked at the events; how I could escape so quickly and easily from him, despite our weight differences. He does not understand balance and positioning. Anyway, he got up and this time, he pulled a knife out of his pocket. I told him, “Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself.” He was a little confused by that comment, seeing he was the one with the knife, but he soon came to understand. He put his non-knife hand (his left) on my shoulder, which I quickly pinned with my left, and I put my right hand behind his left elbow. I took a slight step to the right so now he was unable to stab me, and I pushed hard on that elbow. The pressure was so great he eventually found himself on his knees, and I ordered him to throw the knife a safe distance away. I gave him a quick kick to his face, and that exposed his chest, so I delivered another one there. While he was mourning his injuries, I hurried over and picked up the knife. I put it into the closed position and then made sure it stayed that away by crushing the handle part in my hands. I did the crushing part squatting over so it occurred right in front of his injured face. His eyes opened wide when he saw his ruined knife. “Alright”, I said, just like the other fellow, you now have one more strike.” As he got up, he called me the latter b-word and dusted himself off. He picked up a folding chair and hurled it at me. I raised my right arm, and it deflected off of it, harmlessly to the ground. “Alright, you maybe get an extra one.” I said. He ran at me again, and grabbed me all out. We once again fell to the ground, but this time, he lay right on top of me. He was not kneeling over me, he simply wanted to crush me this time, not kiss or taunt me. He had my arms pinned, this time not with simply with his hands, but with his whole arms and upper body. Unlike last time, he had my legs covered, too. He was squeezing as hard as he could to crush me. With my arms and legs immobilized, I had one weapon left; my face. So innocent, sexy looking, yet, it would be the beginning of end of the Smasher’s 300 pound brother. He had my legs pinned, but I made sure they were stiff and straight, as were my arms. I opened my hands and spread my fingers out as far as possible. I positioned my feet up and spread my feet out as far as they could. I spit in his face to startle him a bit and then put my teeth together and positioned my tongue against the back of my top teeth and then proceeded to give him a head butt. I struck him in the nose with my forehead two times. After the second one, he let go to move his hands to protect his face. That was a bad move, as my arms were now free. “Kiaiya!” I shouted as I smashed his eardrums with my hands several times. The combination of the smashes and the cry disoriented him completely and now he was putty. I clasped my hands together over his back and came down with a hammerfist on his spinal chord several times, and then pushed upwards on my stomach and legs and lifted him up three times. He stayed on the first few, but on the third attempt, he finally flipped over and onto his back. The chair I had deflected earlier I now picked up and smashed him with it several times. “Please stop!” He was now crying. As I stood over him, with my arms crossed, I thought of all the other men who thought they could “handle” me how they writhed in pain after dealing with little me; the three gang members in the alley, the bodybuilder on the beach, the angry parent, the Smasher, the robbers, the man at the church, the two men at the bar, the bank robbers, the football players, the man in the park, the man at the mall, the previous participant in Battle Royale, and now the Smasher’s brother. These were men whose egos and bodies were battered and bruised by my little body. This was the first man who cried, though, and it was a feeling of satisfaction I had never felt before; I felt almost like paying him, but I was not that nice. “Good; we need the money.” Jim said. With that, they kissed and went on with their lives. THE END |