Here's another short little story. Wrote half this morning and half this evening. I think things might have gone differently for Jack if I hadn't taken that break. Oh well!
"How the hell do I get into these situations?" Jack asked himself. He knew the answer was something about a gambling debt and about ten years too many as a semi-professional prize fighter. But he didn't have time to answer his rhetorical query as the bear hit him hard across the face. They had wrapped the claws in some sort of foam padding, so that Jack wouldn't be instantly mauled. Still, getting hit with a cinder block wrapped in a pillow still feels like getting hit with a cinder block.
Jack rolled with the hit, managing to miss the follow-up swipe from the bear's other arm. The bear roared at Jack through it's muzzle. Gobs of bear spit hung on the thin metal bars that prevented Jack from becoming a meal. Jack knew that all the bear really had to do was fall on top of him , pin Jack down under his massive frame and crush his lungs. But the bear was trained against that. The bear was trained to stand and to put on a show.
Jack had of course known that the Don would ask something crazy of him to repay the debt. It was the third time that Jack hadn't been able to cover what he owed. Not even the Don's mother got a forth chance. Jack thought it was funny that a lifetime criminal such as the Don would be a fan of the Three Strikes rule.
Back when he was younger, Jack could have solved this differently. He could have thrown a title fight or something. He enjoyed that. Not the final fight, of course. he liked the setup leading to the title match. A few weeks of fighting chumps dumber than he was. Some knew when the fix was in, some Jack even beat honestly. But a few had the rug pulled out from under him. A bribed trainer who cuts when he should stitch. A waiter that adds an extra ingredient to the fighter's meal before the fight. A sexy call girl who gives them a kiss for good luck.
Jack loved it when he could pummel those poor idiots. He liked to see the looks on their faces as they were going down. They knew it wasn't right, it wasn't fair. But there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it.
But now, things were different. He was too damn old, even for the fights to be fixed. So, the Don gave him a choice. Either fight the bear, or go for one last ride through the country with Saul and Eddie. At least this way, Jack had half a chance of walking away.
The event was staged at some big family party. A birthday or something. Jack wasn't exactly part of that. After a few hours of drinking and dancing with their families, the men at the party were ushered down into the basement where Jack was waiting in his corner of the ring, and the bear was sitting in its cage.
Some of the men recognized Jack. They came down the stairs loaded from the party, and seeing the strange combination of boxing ring and zoo cage, they began to cheer for Jack. They rooted him on and began to drunkenly take bets on who would win. Jack normally fed off all of this attention and hero worship. He would drive the crowd wild and posture and pose. And then he would look over his shoulder at his opponent, as if to say "They know I'm going to win. I know I'm going to win. Why didn't anyone tell you?" It didn't really work today. The bear couldn't be psyched out. He just sat in his cage, occasionally trying to lick his way out of his muzzle.
Jack had tried to even the playing field. Brass knuckles instead of his gloves. But as big as his arms were, they weren't anything like the bear's arms. When the bell rang, Jack had hammered the bear's torso with hits that would have felled any human opponent. It just made the bear mad. That was when the bear had first hit him.
The room, the ring, hell, Jack's whole world was spinning. The bear's padded paw had hit Jack's head in a sweet spot. His brain had rattled inside his skull, bumping back and forth against the bone walls. The entire right side of his face felt like a flat tire that was slowly and painfully re-inflating.
Jack had only dodged the bear's second swipe thanks to his years of training and well developed reflexes. It was not enough to protect him from the third hit. The fourth brought Jack down. He fell hard against the canvas, and the world began to drift in and out of focus.
The crowd watching fell silent as the Don entered the ring. Jack didn't know exactly what he was saying. Something about this being he price of betrayal, some twisted reasoning that appealed to the Don's warped moral code. It was when the muzzle clattered against the canvas that Jack could no longer deny the inevitable.
In his youth, the idea of a glorious warrior's death had appealed to Jack. But as the bear's teeth sank into Jack's soft flesh, all he could think was how he should have taken the ride in the country with Saul and Eddie.
Oh Jack, you poor dumb moron. But he gave the bear indigestion, so really who had the last laugh here folks?
