Mike Tyson ruined about 4 years of my life.
I really loved the way he fought, the peak-a-boo style. I never had any boxing training of my own, but i figured if i got in a fight my studying of Tyson fights would be all the training i needed.
One day in school i was hawkin luiges into textbooks and dropping them from the 3rd floor window onto people's heads below. I hit Beasley Mayfield, I large black girl with a jherri curl and stature of a large industrial brick pizza oven. She challenged me to a duel after school, to which I obliged. When we began our waltz she looked me up and down and then i immediately got into my shuffle. I held my fists close to my chin and bobbed and weaved to get into her inside as she threw wild overhand strikes. I envisioned myself as a perfectly chiseled Brooklyn killer ready to eviscerate my victim when her fist punched the back of my hands, knocking my knuckles right into my nose and slightly gapped teeth. I dropped them for an instant as the bottom of her palm and wrist crashed into my nose. I instantly began to smell sulfur and bacon as salty discharges gathered in my eyes, making them fog up and my vision impaired. Beasley then took her fist and slammed it into the top of my head, much like a cartoon gorilla wacking a mole into the hole from which it came. The impact of my head being pushed into my throat made me involuntarily say "KAAAAACKKK"
I dropped to the pavement as a heard a collective "AWWWWWWDAYUUMM" from the hecklers that encircled us. This was far different from the chants of awe in Caesar's Palace I envisioned at the start of this ruckus. As I lay on the ground nose numb with the feeling that the top of my skull had been cracked she grabbed my left pant leg and the left sleeve of my French Toast shirt and began to lift me off the surface. I began to feel the wind and see the faces of onlookers around me begin to spin around me rapidly, but they were not the ones that were moving in a circle. I wanted to scream and beg for her to stop swinging me for what seemed to be infinity, but I did not. When Beasley decided she wanted to stop she let me go on maybe the 18th revolution, and my limp body went flying into a pile of hamster cages.
The embarrassment was so great i had to transfer schools. But i couldn't understand how a style so graceful could be so ineffective against am uncoordinated brute
