Comedy Open Mic Round #16 - "A Fight For the Ages!"

Image Source: Pixabay, user igorovsyannykov

This is a fictional account of something that actually happened. So it's a true story, but the truth gets fudged a bit.

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Wal-Mart. A place of groceries, electronics, clothing, and even prayer. One day, I was minding my own business walking down the lane when an old woman stopped me in my tracks.

"Excuse me, young man," she said. Hmph. How dare she assume my sex!? "Would you mind if I pray for your legs?"

I give her a look. I don't know what sort of look it was, but I was going for a mixture of confusion and incredulity. More likely I looked like I was constipated. So I answer her, as politely as one in my particular position can muster.

"Sure, why not?"

So she gets on her knees in a way that made me think she was about to offer fealty, grasps my tiny chicken legs and begins her ineffectual plea to God to heal them. It was then I felt something stir. Something came alive in my legs... and...

I kicked her. In the face. It was that sort of knee-jerk reaction you get when your mirthless doctor checks to see if your reflexes are working proper. I would have apologized if I wasn't laughing so hard. Spittle leaked out my mouth. I think at one point I even snorted. The old lady, however, clutched her nose as blood poured and glared at me.

Then she proceeded to grab her unusually large purse and took a huge swing. She struck me on the cheek, dead on, and I flew at least five feet in the air to land in a pit full of gargantuan bouncy balls. You know, those ones used for exercise. I then bounced off those to land hard on my stomach on the linoleum floor and gasped for air. It's like the old bat kept a couple bricks in her bag.

Slowly I climbed to my feet, wiping crimson from my lips. I shifted into a fighting stance. "Alright, you crazy old coot. Bring it."

"You'll come to regret this, you crippled whippersnapper!" She stretched her neck and it popped audibly a few times. Both her hands curled into fists. We began to circle each other as a crowd gathered. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a few of them whip out their phones.

She made her first move: a right hook aimed for my jaw. But I side-stepped the blow and slapped her across the face. Hard. I felt the sting radiate across my palm. Her immediate response was to counter with a kick to the groin. And she succeeded. I collapsed to my knees. An evil grin stretched across her wrinkled face. A gleam twinkled in her eyes.

The throng continued to grow. Bright flashes of light captured the moment. Who the hell uses flash inside a brightly lit convenience store? A baby cried in the background. Back on my feet, I ran straight at the old lady, ready to spear her with a shoulder. She was well-prepared and locked me in an arm, wrapping around my neck like a coiling snake. Her laugh was maniacal as the congregation of onlookers egged her on.

"Kick his ass!"

"Throw him down!"

"Cripple him even more!"

"Make him do your taxes!" That earned a small chorus of crickets, but soon the cheering resumed.

The old lady was stronger than I had anticipated. I couldn't suck in air as I struggled against her iron grip. I was lifted off the ground, feet vertical in the air and then plowed into the floor. A grunt escaped my throat. I may have cried a little. Or pissed my pants. Something was leaking for sure. There was a cane in her hands (I've no ruddy idea how she got a hold of one, or if she had one in the first place). About to strike me with it, I kicked the cane out of her hands and rapped her on the hip.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I just got that replaced, you dollywop!"

"What the hell is a 'dollywop'?" I asked.

"I'll show you!"

She limped toward me. Her eyes were wild, nostrils flared. "All I did was pray for you!"

"Clearly it worked!"

For some reason, I couldn't react as she hefted me on her shoulders, spun around, and threw me like I was nothing more than skee-ball. Suppose I netted fifty points for being bowled into the breast-feeding mother and her significant other, who both proceeded to beat the living snot out of me. Three toddlers escorted me out of the building by my shirt, waddling back inside when it was clear I wouldn't get up.

I cursed and dragged myself away from Wal-Mart. I told myself I would train hard every day. Then, when the time was right, I would put that old bat in her place.

In the damned nursing home, where she belongs.

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I nominate @negativer and @asunalyn to write a COM post.