Bout Night!

It was bout night in sword class...There I was, my first fight in class, surrounded by some of the best Tulsa has to offer. They came at me, ONE! Then ANOTHER! My skills were on auto pilot, I danced, I swerved, my blade gliding through the air like it knew what to do. There was the clank of steel on steel, the whirling of points, the thrusting of jagged edges against under-protected flesh.

I was handed my ass on a plate. I did manage to pull some really good fakes and score a coupla nice hits. Thanks to that seminar I managed to keep a few basics in mind which saved my ass for a bit. I was hit in the pinky, the wrist, the pancreas, a chop to the head during a bout that went to grappling, and one nice hit to the inner thigh that convinced me that I need to invest in a cup.
After the end of the fights the rest of the class went to Mr. Lucky's without me. I'm just flat broke so I couldn't go. Kind of a lonely feeling.
The world will turn and there'll be other bouts closer to pay-day. I'll get better and get hit less while scoring more hits of my own. For the first time in a very long time I am becoming conscious of my own sense of improvement. The world looks much less bleak through those eyes.
Oh well, I've got about half a swig of Calvados left. I'll use that to wash down an allergy pill and slide ever so wetly into bizarre, dream-laden sleep like a bus full of children into quicksand.
"Some day this war's gonna end..."