The Scrapper (part 4)

A rush of excitement burst through Patrick’s veins. He caught the arrogant Tiger off guard, giving Pat the upper-hand.

Everything that he had ever learned in fighting needed to be focused at this point.

Usually in a fight, Patrick would win within 15 seconds. He fought fast and mean. Tiger was just as tough. This time was different and Patrick knew it. He couldn’t let himself get mad. If you get mad then you don’t think. If you stop thinking, then you loose. It was hard not to get mad. Tiger knew this as well. Patrick had landed a couple of left-right combo’s to the jaw and nose and before Tiger could get his balance, Pat had Tiger in a head-lock ready to plant his knee into his teeth. Tiger grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it in Pat’s eyes and face.

“You dirty Sonofa Bitch.” Pat spat out the dirt and tried to keep Tiger in the choke-hold.

Tiger reached up and slapped Patrick a few times with his big calloused paw. The slaps hurt worse than the punches. They felt like big frying-pans smacking him the face. Patrick felt himself getting pissed. He controlled it. Patrick could hear Tiger choke. “I’ve got him” Patrick thought.

Before Patrick could give him a knee to the face, Tiger’s brute strength kicked in, and he picked Patrick up, who was 6 feet of solid lean muscle, and with shear farm boy force he threw him off like a big wet hay bale. This jarred Patrick a bit but even three sheets to the wind, Patrick was still quicker than Tiger. Before Tiger could move another inch Patrick was on him again. Another two, three, four, five hits to his face. Tiger was getting mad. His friends were watching and he never had to fight for this long. Patrick heard the door open to Tiger’s Mustang and then the running feet approach the scene.

“DON’T!” Tiger said. “Stay BACK” “I’m gonna take care of this Hayseed myself.”

Patrick could feel the anger boiling inside of him.

Patrick and Tiger squared off again. Both were breathing heavy and were showing signs of the battle. Pat's face was dirty and had a cut under one eye. Tiger looked sweaty and had a small drop of blood coming from the left nostril. They moved slowly in a circle. Patrick started to feel dizzy.

“Damn it” he thought to himself. “I shouldn’ta drank so much. ” “Damn that Jack”

“Come on Tiger!” one of his friends jeered as they began to lean forward, awaiting the call from their leader to jump at any time.

Tiger wasn’t about to win this fight with the help of his buddies. He was going to win this one right.

Patrick stumbled slightly. He was getting dizzier by the second. The voices of Tiger’s jeering friends started to sound like a crowd. Voices… “the scrapper from Foyl just keeps comin’ at him.” “I’m not sure the Champ knows what to think of him.”

Patrick could hear the announcer yell into the radio microphone. “The Scrapper from Foyl has no skill, He’s just mean…”

“I shoulda won that damn fight.” Patrick mumbled to himself.

Patrick and Tiger were still walking in a slow circle with their fists cocked and ready to go. The stand off was broken when Tiger took a big swing at Patrick. Patrick moved out of the way. On the way by Patrick snuck a punch right to Tiger’s ear, nearly knocking Tiger over. The dizziness was worse now, and Patrick could feel his eye swelling. If Patrick were somewhere else he would have puked his guts up. Tiger’s friends were getting more involved. Patrick’s eye started to throb. He started blinking fast to keep the sweat out of his eye and to keep it focused.

“Come on Tiger. Whip his ass and let’s go.” Another one Tiger’s Letter Jacket gang yelled.

“Shut UP FRANK!” Tiger yelled.

Not a trace of fear could be found in either boy’s eyes. They both just stared. Tiger glared at Patrick. Patrick glared back.

For a second it looked like Patrick was… winking at him. Tiger could feel a hot burning coal of hatred in his soul. He had seen that Hayseed wink that cocky wink before. The only other time they had met.

They had met in a bar in Claremore. Patrick was there playing pool and beating another guy from Claremore, egging him on. Over at the bar sat Tiger, drinking, and watching. Patrick was good at about anything he tried. He was also good at being cocky. Patrick leaned over the pool table, down through the smoke to knock the 8 ball in the side pocket. Right before he hit the ball, he looked up through the dim light and smoke at the girl sitting to Tiger’s right, and winked.

In Oklahoma, if you wanted to fight, you did two things: You insulted a boy's mother, or you looked sweetly at some other fella’s girl.

Tiger quietly put his beer down and got up to go meet Patrick at the pool table. He had already decided that he didn’t like him. He began that same icy, calm stroll over towards Patrick. Patrick had known his course of action before he even winked. “When he gets over here, I’m gonna to knock all his front teeth out with this pool cue. ” Tiger made it half way to the Pool table when his path was blocked by a big shadowy figure, Patrick’s best friend, Bo Bean.

“Tiger, just calm down. He’s been drinkin.” Bo said calmly in a deep barrel voice.

“Its alright Bear” Tiger said. “I just want to chat with your boy here.”

“If you wanna fight him, then your gonna have to get through me.” Bo said calmly.
The bar got quiet. Tiger gave an icy smile to Bo. Tiger’s girl came up to his side, grabbed his arm and whispered something in his ear.

“Alright Bear.” Tiger said. “I’ll let it slide if your vouchin’ for him.”

Tiger backed up and started to leave the bar. He wasn’t used to backing down. Patrick was still standing there watching. Tiger took one last look back as his girlfriend opened the door and light burst into the dark room on Tiger. The last thing he saw in the bar before his girlfriend pulled him out the door was Patrick, just grinning from ear to ear. Their eyes locked and Patrick winked.

Yeah, Tiger had seen that wink before. This time he wasn’t gonna let it slide.

Patrick was far from winking. He was desperately trying to stay focused. While the adrenaline was pumping he had been fine. But the alcohol had taken its toll.

To be continued (the last one, I promise!)