Every iota of your muscle and every fiber of your body cry out to bootless heaven. This is one battle you are sure to remember if you ever survive it. Or if your faculties remain intact should you actually pull it off.
The stench of tobacco approximates its distance. Your eyes half shut, a blurred vision is an understated handicap. Slugging it out in the first place sure wasn’t such a bright idea – not when your sparring partner is a 9 foot behemoth 8 times your weight. And you thought Mike Tyson was dumb.
The monster flashes a knowing grin. It puffs the cigar, inhaling the smoke and a full 5 meter radius of air surrounding him. It’s going for the kill and you just happen to be the victim.
“Darn, I couldn’t even say it’s a good day to die”.
End game. Even rising up is a burden. Nevertheless you prop yourself up for one last stand.
The Kapre moves forward….
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