Okay, so next week, my lovely and talented trainer tells me, we get to start boxing!
Yay! Right? Yay!
Well, no. I should not be allowed to learn to box. Not even pretend-box. Because boxing, in the hands (no pun intended) of someone like me is very, very dangerous.
With my smart-ass mouth? And this temper? Somebody’s liable to get an ass-whuppin’.
And that someone is me.
You don’t look surprised. Why don’t you look surprised?
Because er’rybody knows the only thing worse than somebody with little-man syndrome who can fight is somebody with it who thinks they can fight but cain’t.
I said it. Cain’t.
Godamighty.
Au contraire, mon amie. I think boxing will be an excellent way for you to work out–OUT, I said–your aggressions . . . plus, it’ll be fun.
I spent a summer kickboxing at a Tae Kwon Do academy, but I only reached yellow belt status. Still, it was super fun and I got to break boards with my hands and shit.
You’ll just get to try and break something of your trainer’s, which he might actually deserve. . . .
Dude, go for it. Seriously. Its good for the soul. When I was a kid, I had a punching bag in the basement and I can’t tell you how much I fun I had beating the hell out of that thing.
Besides, learning to fight also teaches you not to get into a fight that you can’t win. It’s good for the soul.