Crouching Nigger Hidden Savage

I heard the smashing sound of glass and the startle almost broke my neck; my eyes closed by reflex as I saw shrapnel flying when the bottle made contact with the edge of our table. I almost slid off my seat when I ducked leftwards turning around to face the would-be assailant.

This was the guy from outside the beer parlour next to ours that we had laughed at when a girl, whose ass he had apparently grabbed, was shouting him down and threatening with her stiletto heels. He had a horrible looking scare above his lip and he looked like a ruffian. Now he had three other goons around him and my two friends I was seated with were up on their feet as well, all on guard.

“For this town? Una dey mad? Na me una dey make jest of” said this low life scum. He was probably the lord and master of everything that walked and talked around there.

What’s going on here? Is this brute the fucking owner of the town? I conveniently had several other friends drinking in this bar at this point in time; we had all stopped here to kill time before heading for the traditional marraige that that brought us to this part of town. This senseless guy was obviously unaware of the fact that unless he had an army waiting around the corner that he was outnumbered. I was not going to have this bastard walk free after this performance.

His muscular looking chest was heaving beneath his green and white striped t-shirt. He probably thought he was Julius Cesar. I only prayed he didn’t have a gun because a brawl was about to ensue.

My friend Omo (from Fall In, Walk Out of Love) was standing to my right and my other best friend Bob on my left, the perfect combination for the first attack. We were not the ones to walk away from a fight and especially not today that the stage was set.

No time to space out.

My cheek hurt. I touched it, a piece of glass had pricked me. “Fucking shit, this guy’s don wound me” I said to Bob. In a split-second I pounced across the table grabbing the empty bottle of Sprite close to the base. Before his punch narrowly missed my jaw and landed on my shoulder, I slammed the under of the bottle on his left brow. My left hand reaching for his gullet and the bottle still in my other hand I raised my right hand so my elbow could make impact his mouth. I missed. I felt the sharp familiar pain of a blow landing on the right side of my head. I held fast. In one barbaric motion I flogged the bottle in the direction of the punch and felt it crack as it made contact with his man’s shoulder. Two other or more of my friends took him down with some vicious kicks and punches.

They had just realised we were no longer three guys against the four of them. I saw Bob in midair as his head made contact with the other guy’s lips and jaw. I know he drew blood as they both crashed unto the table behind me.

I had grappled with my opponent as he grabbed my waist with both hands in an attempt to wrestle me to the ground. Stretching one leg behind me to balance myself and keep it beyond his reach, I elbowed his back. Realising that he had taken hold of my one leg, I crashed my elbow in the middle of his back as hard as I could again, in the bid to cause proper damage this time. He arched his back in pain and threw another punch as he rose quickly to full height, I jumped back to dodge the upper cut as it bruised my cheek right under my eye. It was very inconvenient throwing a punch in my position so as struck his face with a very fierce slap, it landed on his left eye. In one swooping motion, before he would hit me again, I followed it closely with a point blank clout. He was turning like he wanted to run seeing that he and his men might have been overpowered by mine before someone’s foot caught him smack in the side of his neck; He hit the ground and a feet landed on his chest and his sides.

One of his goons lost balance and struggled to catch the ground as someone swept his two feet of the ground with a calculated boot. By this time, everyone sitting around was standing; the bar had managed to empty half of its human content across the open culvert separating the road and the beer parlour.

Some friends of my friends proceeded to drag these guys outside towards the back road to further investigate the scuffle. These particular associates of mine were ones not to be fucked with and especially not now when alcohol was involved; these hoodlums are going to be very sorry for their guts. I briefly assessed my face in a side mirror, there was only a little cut from the broken glass.

We hung around for a while, paid for our drinks, as another friend arrived with three mobile policemen. It was almost time to head for the proposed occasion, we handed the boys over to them, Bob changed into his inner shirt because his shirt had blood on it then hit the road. It had been ages since we had adrenaline pumped in such a brash masculine way, besides during wild sex. It felt good.

Almost forgetting the incident early that evening, we had fun that night, more drinks and women.