I hate you.
You. Yes, you. I want to break your jaw. Bruise your ribs, might even sneak in a headbut. You are the enemy, we stand toe to toe, both saying ‘I am’, breathing heavily through flaring nostrils. This is it, this is the end of the road, this is were you fall down.
We circle eachother, testing. Concentrated eyes meet. I will break you, clenched fists ready. You bastard, you fuck. There it is, it hits me like an epiphany.
You misstepped.
Fuck you. ‘THE CANNON’S COMBO LANDS PERFECTLY, CATCHING HOLYFIELD OFF BALANCE, SENDING HIM HURTLING TO THE CANVAS!’
MAN, I love Fight Night: round 3!
