Page 87 of Spike

“Alright,gentlemen. You both know the rules. No shots below the belt, no eye poking orgouging, no elbows, no intentional clashes of the head. You break when I saybreak, and you fight when I say fight. Obey my commands at all times and comeout fighting when the bell rings. Now, hook ‘em up and go back to your cornersuntil the opening bell.”

Kevin and Itouched knuckles. The first, but not the last time the Mangler’s fists wouldmake contact with me.

We went back to mycorner and Clutch gave me one last pre-fight “pep talk.”

“The fightconsists of three, three-minute rounds. If you’re both still standing at theend, the decision goes to the judges.”

“Who are thejudges?”

“I’m not sure itmatters. I don’t think anyone’s ever lasted all three rounds with this guy.”

“You know you suckat this, right?”

“Stay covered upand don’t die,” he said, removing the stool and himself from the ring.

Ding! Ding! Theopening bell rang out, and before I knew it, I was charging towards the centerof the ring.

** *

Trixie

Oh, crap. Did hesee me?

I squeezed my eyesshut for a second and took a deep breath.

Calm down, yourdisguise is solid. He has no idea you’re here.

I focused back onSpike and he looked my way.

He’s looking rightat me. Crap! He’s definitely looking right at me. I’m so busted.

All of a sudden,Clutch slapped him across the face. Hard.

Why did Clutch hithim?

I was alreadymelting down and the fight hadn’t even started yet. I felt like I was gonna besick. Why did Spike agree to do this and why didn’t he tell me about it? Icrossed my arms and huffed. Once I was done being worried sick about him, I wasgonna be so angry.

Spike’s opponententered the ring, and my worry turned to pure fear. I’d never been to a boxingmatch or even seen one on TV. I’d seen clips of the all-time greats likeMuhammed Ali, but that was about it. Given my limited knowledge and exposure tothe sport, even I knew that both fighters were always roughly the same size.That was not the case in this fight.

The man introducedas the Mangler was considerably larger than the man I loved, currently standingopposite him. I’m sure the announcer said his full name, but all I caught wasthe Mangler part. My Spike was about to bemangled.

“You, okay lady?”the man next to me asked. His breath stunk of beer and bad choices.

“Why wouldn’t Ibe?” I asked, trying, and failing, to sound calm.

“For starters,you’re dressed like you’re at an Eric Church concert. And B, you’ve beenwringing the shit out of your T-shirt since you got to your seat.”

I looked down tosee I’d practically destroyed the bottom of my shirt. I was sweating from everypore, and I was definitely going to be sick. But, before I could make a dash tothe bathroom, the opening bell rang, and I was too petrified to move… or puke.

“Fight,” thereferee called out and Spike rushed at the giant.

“No, no!” Iyelled. “Run away!” but, my voice was drowned out by the roar of theblood-thirsty crowd. Spike was like a Christian in Rome, thrown to the Lions tobe torn apart for the sheer amusement of its citizens.

Spike threw thefirst punch. Or more accurately, punches. He went all ‘Rock ’Em Sock ’EmRobots’ on the Mangler as soon as he reached him, throwing punch after punch tohis barrel-chested mid-section, but the larger man seemed unaffected by thebarrage, keeping his hands high and doing very little to stop Spike’s punches.

“Keep working thebody! Let him show off! He’ll get tired!” Clutch yelled from the corner.

I looked up at thefight clock, hoping the round was almost over, disheartened to see two minutesstill remained in the round. It was at this time the Mangler seemed to growtired of being Spike’s punching bag and decided to fight back.

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