Prize Fighting

I am having the best fight of my life. It is up there with the Cyclops fight. Remember I knocked that dude clean out. I am that good. I am throwing strong lefts. I can hear the crowd cheer every time I throw a left. I am fighting like Kimbo Slice. My combinations are dreamlike, one two one two. My shuffle worthy of a black jack dealer at a table in Las Vegas. I am that good. My leg work is sublime, my movement deft. I am like the wind moving around the ring, I am like the rain throwing those punches, I am excitement personified. I wish I had a mirror in the ring with me. I will use a few anthropomorphic metaphors: I am a tiger! A lion! A bear! When I release a right I am overwhelmed with euphoria. Like the killer I detect weakness, pusillanimity and I go in for the kill. Lifting up her skirts and running won’t save Charlotte Brontë. I have the scent of blood upon me.