Davy, my boxing trainer, likes to
play BB King discs during especially
excrutiating workouts, so I brought
over an A whistle and played blues
background to ‘The Thrill is Gone,’ a particularly
appropriate number for the occasion.
Davy was impressed.
Then he had me go ten three-minute
rounds with a heavy bag made of rubber
that is shaped like a strong but
unpleasant looking man. The bag has
no arms and can’t hit back, but by
round 6 it was winning. I was completed winded. Davy incited me to more violence.
‘You gotta out think him, Mr. KO!’
‘How do you out think a hunk of rubber?’
‘He’s gonna punch your wife!’
‘Let her deal with it. She’ll beat the snot out of him.’
‘She’s gonna run off with him!’
‘Impossible! I owe her too much money.’
‘He’s gonna take your whistles!’
‘What? Let me at him!’ Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
‘Good job! You can stop now Mr. KO. I said
you can stop now!’
‘Kreegraahh!’ Bam! Bam! Bam!Bam! Bam!
‘Jeez! You nearly punched the head clean off! Hey, you really care about
whistles, don’t you?’
‘Snort! Grrr! Pry em…pant, gurgle..
from my cold…gurgle, snort…dead fingers…’
‘Hey, Mr. KO, if you’re gonna throw up,
please don’t do it in here. Mr. KO,
they just washed the floor! Mr KO…’
