[Micro-fictions] Boxing Match at Esplanade – Le Comptoir

On this first night, the sun was submerged in golden dust, spitting out violently like an ancient bellows. The strange light cuts off the figures of the people walking on the square, cuts off their movements, and makes life and faces illusory… Even the carefully arranged succulents and bony trees seem to be fascinated by a kind of mixed Great sad sadness. Resign.

Boxing matches will be held close enough to skyscrapers for them to provide us with reflections of our bodies from the burning glass of the endless floor.Five years ago, I beat the self-proclaimed rhino He was known for a purple silk nightgown, which he wore frequently, as soon as the war was over. In retrospect, I tell myself, he was the last old world warrior to fight alongside me. Then things gradually changed. Of course because of the money, but also because of public expectations. The ancestral rules were quickly considered outdated. Not spectacular enough, not interesting enough. The collected opinions indicate an incredible desire for fantasy… We boxers become playthings of twisted minds, overseeing the fate of our tried flesh through money. Today’s game will be another example.

Race organizer Pietro insisted that the thick steel chain would weigh on our wrists. He said it would attract public attention, would be “pleasant to the eye” and would increase uncertainty. You don’t say no to Pietro for the pain of losing a contract, a reputation, or worse…from the emotions around me, he’s right. I’ve rarely seen so many families huddled together on a workday… Pietro, it’s the love of creepy details, the love of brutal discoveries that gets people talking. He’s made me fight over fake sharks, on elevated trains, on mall rooftops, torched…all of these discoveries come to his mind with disturbing ease, almost every time Find ardent supporters.

To be precise, when I walked to the ring, I was thrilled to see him in an impeccable outfit. His broken tooth protruded a little from his lower lip, gleaming like a diamond. On the Esplanade at this time, the wind was strong, forcing the public to wear hats, wigs and hats. His smile widened as I approached. He despised me and at the same time admired me because of my natural lack of interest in money and because people moved for me even though I often lost. “You’ll see, it’s great!” he said excitedly when I walked up to him. It wasn’t a good sign. It was himself who bound my wrist with the famous chains he so craved. I heard People were laughing at me. So was Peter. He whispered “underweight, underpaid and undervalued” in my ear before patting me on the cheek and giving the crowd a big smile. Although the character stirred up My disgust, but I can’t help but think that he was the one who got me out of jail to fight me. He always believed in me, alone, most of the time…

Today, I’m facing a swarm of moths master. To be precise, they own most of the buildings adjacent to the Esplanade. They’re liars, somewhere between a real estate agent and a cabaret owner. They were the ones who insisted on building the ring, and they paid the price.Precisely, we draw huge black curtains for the traditional tradition War theme revealed. The crowd couldn’t help but sigh in admiration. We found a rectangular arena that looked like a 1920s New York living room. The rebuild is amazing. There are lacquered wood chests of drawers, Duke Ellington’s (Pietro’s favorite artist) sputtering record player, and a table surrounded by deep armchairs littered with a pair of artificially worn cards. The floor is covered with a soft golden fringed red carpet, with two bookcases hanging in the middle, a huge painting of the Hudson River. Vaguely protected by a minibar, and a woman with a deep neckline, wearing a scarf and long white satin gloves, and fiddling with a giant cigarette holder, she doesn’t seem to know what to do…if not For all the thermoelectrics to be pointed at us, we could have believed.

Soon, my opponents applauded with me. He didn’t seem bothered by his chains, as if he had practiced wearing them. Thick hair, cold face, pale skin, Slavic style. Her extensive glowing tattoos show octopuses and jellyfish wrapping their tentacles around a three-masted vessel.A brief animation makes them move across his body as he moves his pelvis, a marvel of the latest technology mastered by the gang’s tattoo artists master. Pietro picked up the megaphone to introduce us, but I couldn’t hear anything. I look for a weakness, I study decoration. A few seconds later, the horn sounded, marking the start of the fight.

Immediately, I cracked my capsule Promote hidden under the tongue. I bought it with almost all my savings and it should give me an impressive power boost. I have no choice. I have lost so much lately. Then I don’t believe in the fairness of this fight. This is my first time cheating. I would cry in other situations.Effect Promote It only lasted for a moment, so I was in a rush to attack. A huge heat wave went through my body, and I felt my spine soften as it hardened, and I had to hold back ecstatic laughter so that my cheating wasn’t revealed. Even the public seemed determined to encourage me.fighter master Amazed at my strength and aggression. After a few dodges, he finally took my blow, curled up on the bookshelf whose fake rear-projected rolls undulated with each impact.

I used chain hooks and uppercuts, but I had a feeling his flesh wasn’t marking the blow, an invisible shell covering him. No complaints, no voices coming from him, and he doesn’t even seem to be trying to free himself. Suddenly he pushed me away and slapped my temple with the chain on his right wrist. For the first time, his eyes stayed on me. He has faded blue eyes, almost grey, in which the rays of the setting sun playfully outline. He was apparently also on drugs.Then he took the initiative, and I Promote There has been less and less quality goods. It was my turn to stumble under his blow. My feet got caught in the carpet and I bumped into the minibar, the extra hostess probably following behind with indifferent eyes during the argument.

Cornered, I just turned my back to her, my back against her mahogany counter, the crystal goblets colliding with the vibrator that will never be used. I’m not completely dominant either, my evasion is enough to save me too much damage. The sound of our chains crashing made my eardrums hiss. Taking advantage of the calm, I managed to reach the temple in a straight line from the end of the glove. He was still briefly surprised.

Just then, the mistress’s arm caressed my cheek, moving very quickly, like a throbbing snake. She held an extremely thin blade in her fist, hidden in her cigarette holder.I was surprised to see the latter in the right eye of the champion master. The blood spurted out, thick and covered with slave crystal, the clan’s trademark, thus protecting itself from betrayal. For a split second, my opponent screamed. Terrible, beastly cries. As for me, I foolishly told myself that this woman might have made a gesture of love to me. She is already my friend.

I turned around, indifferent to the fear that emerged around me. His eyes are mediocre, but in our day, when most citizens change the appearance of their pupils with phosphorescent tones and other digital lenses that offer scratch-off game subscriptions, his eyes are remarkably mediocre. He is just brown. They are great. In the audience, gunshots rang out and bodies collapsed.it’s a blow master.

To be continued?

Perek Snakeskin

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