Good evening Baristas, friends, and guests of the Go Dog Go Cafe! Have you heard? There is a Writing Workshop going on every Saturday this month and we would LOVE to have you participate. Tomorrow we move on to the Third Week and it is time to show up with homework if you haven’t gotten it done!
So this week, I take 10% off the top and present you with Rocky 2… so to speak:
The eyeball was not supposed to be damaged but was, nonetheless, thus the rhetorical, how can a blind fighter ever win? He lost the fight but fought so well that he and it will be long remembered. So, what else could he have done but have his trainer cut his eye open when he couldn’t see, so close to the end and intoxicated by the oozing stench of sweat and blood.
Still, a bystander might ask if a fighter had his eye cut and still lost, should it have ever been cut? Who’s to judge? Not the thousands who witnessed the valiant fighter; not the presumptive victor who shrugged in exhaustion when the loser came out of his corner… once again, the pungent ammonia and pink petroleum jelly adding to the evening’s stench.
When she jumped into his arms at the end, having made her way through mobs of new wealth, the eye didn’t matter, the cut didn’t matter, the color of his shorts didn’t matter; hell, his trainer could have had a heart attack and been forgotten in their ecstatic blindness in that moment. She held him tight in spite of the cocktail of odors that would wretch the toughest stomach.
He had done it, gone the distance, and she loved him no matter the result. She showed him the meaning of all the meat he punched, all the side-stitches running, all the dozens of eggs swallowed whole, all the berations from that temporarily forgotten trainer.
The original can be found…
(C) 2020 Stephen Fuller