The Laughter of Strangers

The Laughter of Strangers Read Free Page B

Book: The Laughter of Strangers Read Free
Author: Michael J Seidlinger
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which is, according to Spencer (really, according to anyone but me; I loathe it; loathe it all), the fight before the fight .
     
    THE LECTURE
     
    Lecture about how a match is divided into two, maybe three if you count the post-fight conference.
    1) The interviews, the meet-and-greets, the spotlights on sparring, method, strategy; the celebrity mingling, etc.
    2) The actual fight, the fight that I thought this was really all about but I guess not; more and more these days it seems like this is an afterthought. Who really trains anymore?
    3) That post-fight conference where the media grills you on your performance, like anyone really needs that after going twelve rounds.
    On and on and on he’ll go and I need to follow him, agreeing at the end of every sentence.
     
    THIS IS HOW IT GOES
    KEY ELEMENTS TO A PROFESSIONAL FIGHT
     
    But it goes, and eventually he will stop.
    Things settle down and I get to enjoy a brief but lovely period of recuperation.
    That is, unless Spencer doesn’t stop and proceeds to tell me:
    “And you’re good for it.”
    “Huh?” Good for what?
    I already know, and I can feel that knot of dread already forming, twisting, coiling up, somewhere deep in my stomach.
    “Executioner v. Sugar II. I signed the contract. Word should be reaching the media…” he looks at his wrist, not that he ever wore a watch, “right about now .” Stops, looks around the hospital for the first time, and then asks me, “Excited?”
    Excited is not the word.
    I let the effects of the painkillers pull me back under in the nonsense of a drug-laced consciousness. Temporary escape.
    Last thing I hear before completely letting go, falling into a coma-like sleep, is Spencer saying, “Let’s get you well. Got to get you back on the routine in a week’s time.”
    But I am not there.
    Partial consciousness. I play with the prospect of never resurfacing.
    I will comb the nonspace and turn it into my home.
     
    HOME SWEET HOME
     
    I’ll be right here. Fine.
    But loose escapes are little more than lingering.
    Ask Spencer and he’d say it’s not far off from loathing.
    I just want to sleep.
    These days I fail to fend off the hours that used to be mine; I wake when I wake, frantically rising to my feet when I discover that I slept through to beyond the point where the day can be anything more than half of an afternoon. And the routine, it places me to the side of myself, incapable of keeping track of anything else but the pressures of every incoming promotional event. They all ask me:
    “What does it mean to be Willem Floures?”
    I had a statement prepared, but I must have left it behind, somewhere, maybe resting on a table somewhere.
    Yawn and let it take me, for now, the drugged sleep.
    I’d like to ask them the same question.
    I’d like to reply by saying:
    “You tell me.”
    All I know is that I’m not the same person I used to be.
     
    EXECUTIONER V. SUGAR II…
     
    I signed the contract…
    Word should be reaching the media right about now …
    Excited?
    Hear gasps, deep breaths.
    Familiar, they are my breaths.
    Tired, strained.
    Let’s get you well…
    Got to get you back on the routine in a week’s time…
     
    THE ROUTINE
     
    I can’t get back to myself, much less the day-to-day.
    “Sugar, what happened back there? It appeared as though he gassed you by focusing on body shots. Would you say that’s accurate?”
    Don’t ask me.
    Ask one of them .
    They know me better than I know myself.

 
     
    THE LAUGHTER I FEAR
     
     
    AUDIENCE LAUGHTER
     
    Still have the scars on my face, the loose tooth in my mouth, the jitters so I have to hide my hands from the cameras. Anyway, it’s back to the routine.
    The talk of every day until it happens is:
     
    EXECUTIONER VS. SUGAR II
     
    It used to be the other way around:
     
    SUGAR VS. EXECUTIONER
     
    What does it feel like to be the challenger?
    That’s a question I’ve already been asked.
    It’s a knockout of a question, first of many. Good thing Spencer

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