Comfort

a short story about John and his dog, Delilah, as they travel through Comfort, an eerie town set in the plains of America.

Comfort

 

            I had to pass through Comfort to get to Freetown, where my daughter, Mary, was staying with her mom’s parents.  I had heard about Comfort before, but the quickest way to get to my daughter was through there.  I didn’t have a choice, really.  I had to go through Comfort.   

            I needed more gas in my car by the time I got to Comfort, so I stopped at a gas station just inside the town to get some.  I went inside to buy a couple beers and I got a corned beef sandwich for my dog, Delilah.  I heard Delilah bark while I was inside and she barked until I got outside; she wasn’t looking at me when I walked out of the station, which was unusual.  She was sitting in the driver’s seat looking out that window.  It was the first time she wasn’t anxiously waiting for me to return to the car after a run into a convenience store.  It was a little strange, but Comfort is a strange place.  When I tried to start my car, it wouldn’t go.  No action in it at all and I don’t know much about fixing cars. When it didn’t start, I went back inside to use the phone.  But the kid behind the counter said I couldn’t use his. 

            “Why not?” I asked the punk.

            “Because I don’t want you to use it,” he said, and his eyes blacks grew and threatened me.

            “Let me use it, please,” I said. “I need my car fixed. Help me out.”

            “No, I’m waiting on a phone call,” he replied easily, taking a look out the window.  When he saw Delilah, he sure perked up.  “Nice pup, man,” he said, still looking at my dog.  If he’d been a dog, the hair on his back would have raised itself.

            “She wants you to let me use the phone,” I told him while he looked at her, opening one of my beers. “Let me use it.”

            “No. Go up to town and use someone else’s,” the punk still looked out the window at my car and my dog. “That’s a pretty girl. She looks strong.”

            “She has strong jaws. How far to town?” I gulped down a portion of my beer. Being able to drink a beer where you want- and when you want- is one of the perks about living in America these days.  The punk looked lazily back at me and his nostril ring shimmered under the afternoon sun’s intense, hot light.

            “Y’know, I always liked them all-white pit bulls. Is she all white?” He blabbered and I wasn’t there to talk pit bulls. “I used to have a red-nose pup, man, she was-“

            “How far?”

            “Go that way,” he said pointing, looking back down at his magazine.  I finally knew where we needed to go, and I headed towards the door.  “I’ll watch your car.”  I stopped and looked back at him. His head was still dropped towards his magazine, but through the corners of his shifty eyes, he watched me.  I stared back, my face beginning to fill up red.  He grinned to himself, still looking at me. 

            I turned back towards the door.  “Thanks for the beer,” I said, looking back at him.  I was mad enough and hot enough to wring the punk’s neck.  Nobody was around, and I could have killed him if I’d wanted to.  It wouldn’t have been the first time; in the War, I’d killed a few dozen enemy soldiers, with no more than a knife.  I swigged the rest of my beer and dropped the big, empty can on the tile floor.  “See you around, maybe,” I walked outside.

            I let Delilah out of the car and gave her the sandwich.  I rolled the windows up and locked the doors.  Midday had come and it was very hot.  Delilah and I began to walk in the direction the punk told us to go.  After a minute, I took a last look back.  Through the light swirls of up-kicking dust, I could see him looking back at me, talking on the phone as he glared through the window.  It was an impressive scowl for such a twitchy little prick.  It wasn’t the time, though, and I opened the second beer and returned to my dog.  I let Delilah walk herself; like my other pit bulls I had before her, Delilah was good about staying close to me.  We walked down the road and I thought about how things were before.  Before, I would have had my cell phone and I could have used it.  Now, I had to deal with punkboy behind the counter.  Before, I could have just called Mary and had her send someone out to me to fix my car.  Now, I had to walk to the heart of Comfort just to use a phone. 

            We walked along the desolate road and Delilah panted.  I realized she hadn’t had water since the morning and I had no water with me.  I had a third of my beer left, but it would have only made her thirstier, so I drank it instead.  There was nothing along the road.  No buildings, no remnants of buildings.  No cars passed.  I kept my shirt on even though it was very hot.  Although I had seen nobody but the punk yet, I didn’t want to risk someone seeing my old police gun tucked in the waist of my jeans.  I didn’t want trouble; I wanted to see my baby daughter.

            After a little while, I saw buildings come up in the distance.  The kid at the gas station had not lied to me, like I had thought.  I had wondered, in the intense heat, if Delilah and I were on a road to nowhere.  A wild goose chase, maybe.  But we came upon a big, dull-orange sign overhanging the road that said, “Welcome to Comfort.”  Behind the sign was the same road we walked on, but this part of the road was lined on either side with shops and buildings, many adorned with elaborate, electric signs that overhung the sidewalk.  No building rose more than a couple stories, but towards the end of the strip, a sturdy, concrete bubble rose about a hundred feet in the air.  It stuck out among the little stores and walk-ins lying tight to the rest of the road.  The signs were not on and nobody walked the street.  This was Comfort and it was not much like I had heard.  It was actually real quiet. 

            Delilah had gotten thirstier- the rims of her eyes had gone red and she looked at me, panting hopefully- so I needed to get water for her.  I tied her leash to a window bar and bent down and let her hot, wet nose feel my sweaty forehead.  I massaged the cartilage in her ears and let her lick the stubble on my face.  Her tongue sounded like Velcro against my face as she loved me.  One last pat on her big head and I walked through the door of what looked to be a pub.  There was a man behind the bar filling his bar tray and he looked up when he heard me enter.

            “Hi,” he said, looking at me, squinting slightly through the dimly lit bar. “I’m not open yet. Sorry.” He turned the sink on and began rinsing his hands of cherry juice, still trying to recognize me, I suppose.

            “Hi. I just need to use your phone.” I walked towards the bar. “I need some water for my dog, too. I’d appreciate it.”

            The tall, broad man still watched me and didn’t need to squint anymore as I approached the bar.  He could then see me clearly and his eyes greeted me excitedly as he smiled.  It was welcoming and if he’d been a dog, his fur wouldn’t have risen. One of two wasn’t bad.

            “What kind of dog? Where is she?” he asked happily, anxiously peering at the floor around me. His tail would have wagged.

            “Can I bring her in?”

            “Go get her, man!” he turned the water off and began to dry his large hands, still smiling.

            I came back in with Delilah and he walked quickly around the bar with a pint glass full of water.  He set the glass on the ground, inviting Delilah to him, patting his thighs thunderously.  Delilah was thirsty and panted heavily but she didn’t go for the water.  She looked at me instead, hesitant to leave my side in the unknown place.

            “Can I pet her?” the bartender asked, looking to me hopefully.  He crouched a little and clapped to her, making smooching noises. “Come here, girl,” he smooched again.  He appeared to like dogs.  He bent down and patted the ground, continuing to smooch at my dog.  He was as friendly as friendly gets, but Delilah didn’t budge.  Was nothing against him, I think; she had always been nervous around new people. 

            I walked to the glass of water and Delilah followed me.  She began to lap up the water and the man gave me a look-and-nod that asked again if he could pet her.  “Go for it,” I smiled and bent down to warm her up to a stranger’s touch.  Before I could tell the man not to touch her head, he began rubbing behind her ears.  She winced slightly but continued to drink the water, splashing slobber and water across the floor.  The man made strange clicking noises with his tongue and massaged her up good.

            “I’ll get some more water,” he stood back up and put his huge hand out for a greeting. “I’m Jerry,” he told me.  I shook his hand and thanked him for the water. 

            “You have a phone I can use?”

            “Oh man,” I heard him say as he walked back behind the bar. “My phone hasn’t worked all day. I think the lines are out maybe,” he said, shaking his head as he poured another glass of water for Delilah.  He looked at the dog from behind the bar and continued, “I tried to call my sister this morning and got nothing. The lines gotta be out, man, I’m sorry,” he looked back to me apologetically.

            “Anywhere else I could use a phone, you think?” I asked. 

            “The whole strip is dead, ” he said.  “Nobody’s phone is working today, I think. Where you from, man?” he came back to my side of the bar and poured the water into the pint glass.

            “I’m going to Freetown to see my daughter. Her grandparents live there. Can you give me a ride?” I missed my daughter.

            “Uh, well,” he muttered. “I don’t drive, but I can get you a ride there tomorrow. Nobody will be able to take you there today, man,” he apologized in tone and expression, looking as though he wanted to help.

            It was still only late in the afternoon in Comfort.  “How come nobody can today?” I asked, fumbling for proper words as I tried to hide my frustration. “It can’t be too far, is it?”

            “Not on fight night, man,” Jerry looked to me abruptly.  “You’ve come on a good night.  Daddy fights tonight!  You’re down for a good fight, man, right?” he thumped my arm playfully as he walked back toward the bar.  “We’ll get you to Freetown tomorrow, I promise. But tonight, hang out and enjoy Comfort. You can stay here with me.”

            “Can I have a beer?” I asked, trying to accept my helplessness.

            Jerry leaned over the bar and brought back a beer for me. “What’s your name, bud?”

            “I’m John,” I lied. “I’m from Old Philly,” I told the truth.  I drank half my beer in one pull and checked on my dog.

            “Old Philly,” he thought out loud, bringing his thumb to rub the series of scars that covered most of his forehead. “I had family there. I didn’t know them really. Distant relatives, my mom’s cousins or somethin’ like that,” he sipped on his own beer. “My family was from Kansas. We all survived, but they stayed in Kansas.”

            “I was in Mexico,” I told him. “I was lucky, I guess. Me and my ex-wife were on our honeymoon down there.”

            Jerry looked at me and smiled. “Always nice to hear other people’s survival stories, John. Cheers to you both!” He raised his beer to my unraised beer and tapped it, nodding enthusiastically. “Cheers to us all!”

            I didn’t want to stay in Comfort, but I didn’t seem to have a choice.  I drank more beers with Jerry and was half drunk when he startled me and Delilah. “Time to turn the strip on, John-boy!” He grabbed a set of keys from the bar top and walked excitedly towards the door, looking to me to follow. “Come outside, man! With me, man, come on!”

            We walked outside and the sun whipped my eyes.  It was still bright and it was still hot.  Jerry unlocked the top of a metal box attached to the front of his bar.  He looked at me and wiped his slickening black hair, eager like an impatient child.  Another sly smile and Jerry seemed to press something or turn something inside the box and a loud horn sounded.  It sounded three times and it could be heard a mile away, I’m sure.  After the third horn, music began to play through speakers that seemed to line the entire strip.  Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Let the Good Times Roll.”  The music played loudly and I half expected hundreds of people to flood the streets, sharing the same excitement Jerry had exhibited just before pressing the button.  But nobody did.  Jerry didn’t expect the same thing I did.  Instead, he put his arm around my shoulders (and thankfully not around my waist, where my gun still was) and led me back into the bar.  “Fight night,” he hissed to me excitedly.

           

            I napped on a bench for a while and when I woke up, Delilah was curled up next to the bench.  I patted her head and it was still hot.  But she slept soundly and the cold bar floor surely helped keep her cool enough to sleep okay.  I sat myself up and looked around.  I didn’t see Jerry and through the window, I could see dusk was setting in.  I stood up and sucked down the rest of my warm beer.  Delilah slept.  I went to the door and as I got close, I could hear “Let the Good Times Roll” still playing outside.  I opened the door and looked outside.  As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I saw a pair of young women standing across the street.  They saw me and one whispered something to the other.  Having never taken their eyes off me, they made a swift bee-line for me, not worried about the road traffic that didn’t exist in Comfort.

            “Where’s Jerry?” one of the girls asked as they neared the sidewalk. She had fiery red hair and feisty eyes and a gait like a Vegas trick.

            “I don’t know. I just woke up,” I said. 

            “Who the f**k are you?” the same girl asked threateningly and flicked the rest of her smoke over her shoulder.

            I don’t like being cussed at.  I looked at the second girl and said, “I need a ride to Freetown.” She had dark hair, dark eyes and her black clothes hid her chest.  She was wholesome and handsome and dark, and I liked her looks. “Can you give me a ride?” I asked her.  She looked at different parts of my face and her eyes smiled at me.  She liked my look, too. 

            “Jesus God, what the f**k? Why are you in Jerry’s bar?” the redheaded girl backhanded my chest hard and got my attention.

            “He let me nap inside until I could find a ride. Can one of you take me?” I asked. “Don’t do that again,” I advised the dumb redhead, rubbing my chest.

            “No, you can’t leave today,” the second girl said quickly, finding her voice.

“Nobody leaves Comfort at night. People come to Comfort at night,” the first girl said. She was sexy at that moment, but still not attractive.

            “Why not?”

            “It’s a rule,” she said, smiling at the brunette. “Besides, you want to stay anyways.” She swaggered a few steps towards me and put her mouth near mine, breathing lightly into my mouth.  Her breath was sweet and warm.  She never took her eyes off mine as she took hold of my lower lip and sucked on it and bit it lightly. The other girl eagerly watched our faces as the redhead’s tongue traced my lip and it was sweet-tasting.  She began to kiss me and I let her, because I was woozy from my nap and maybe a little drunk still- I wasn’t horny; I wanted to see my daughter.  The dark-haired girl moved behind me and put her hands on my head and she rubbed it softly while the redhead tongued my mouth.  The brunette’s hands moved down my neck to my back and the redhead’s tongue was pure magic.  I began to kiss her back; her mouth was the sweetest I’d ever tasted. 

            “Your wife is lucky, John,” the brunette whispered behind my ear as her hands moved towards my stomach.  Her tone made my innards shiver, even in the hot, hot, heat.  I quickly realized why; I hadn’t told the girls my name.  Something didn’t feel good, even when it felt good.

            “I don’t have a wife,” I pulled away from the redhead and stood away from the two girls.  The redhead smiled deviously, backing up a half-step.  She held her shiny, wet tongue out for me to see the white chalky substance resting on its moist tip and she smiled to herself. 

“Enjoy your trip, John-boy,” the dark-haired girl was behind me again and whispered warmly into my ear.  “The fight lights come on soon.”  She came to my front and kissed me on the mouth, wiping away the dampness under my bottom lip with her thumb as she backed up to catch up with the redhead.

            After they walked a few feet, I went back in the bar and Delilah greeted me wildly, her tail thumping back and forth in excitement.  She sniffed me eagerly, soaking in the scent of a stranger she would never meet.  Jerry was still gone.  I got myself a beer and got some water for Delilah.  She was not thirsty, or else she hadn’t satisfied her curious nose yet; she followed me, sniffing and sneezing excitedly. 

            I was behind the bar looking for something to eat, realizing I had nearly memorized the words to “Let the Good Times Roll” when I saw, in my peripheral, the sudden flash of bright lights outside.  I looked out the window and the dusk had given way to a fluorescent showering.  The loud horn from earlier sounded again as I opened the door and walked out.  The quarter-mile worth of shops and buildings was completely saturated with neon lights and flashing bulbs.  It was a full carnival’s worth of bright lights, condensed to illuminate only a few blocks’ worth of bars and shops in the middle of nowhere.  Must be fight night, I thought, and went back inside.

            There was no food in Jerry’s bar and I needed some because I was getting even woozier and more lightheaded.  I hadn’t eaten anything since early that morning and the walk into town had worn me out quite a bit.  I poured another pint of water for Delilah and told her I would be back with some dinner for us.  My shirt was still a little bit damp with sweat and I wanted to change it, but I didn’t have another shirt.  I took the shirt off and set it on a bench and put my gun underneath it- Comfort wasn’t the bad place I’d heard about, and I wouldn’t need my gun.  My mouth was parched, so I drank some more water.  I looked back to Delilah again and struggled to see her wholly, my vision getting blurrier as I grew more drugged.  She laid with her head on the ground, watching me with raised eyebrows, like a mother watching her son board that overseas flight. 

            I opened Jerry’s bar door and walked out to the sidewalk.  Many more people were walking around the street and the lights and people and music made me dizzier.  My jeans felt too tight and my bare chest and back felt cold in the heat.  The drug from the redhead’s tongue was circulating quickly through my body.  People looked at me and smiled wickedly as they passed me.  They were mostly young people, few older than myself at age 32.  They were an exotic-looking group of people.  These kids were all strong and they all had fierce eyes, like the redhead.  They were dressed wildly and some wore makeup.  Hair colors matched the neon lights and facial piercings reflected them.  Some danced maniacally to the music that now played through the speakers.  Jerry Lee Lewis no longer played and the drugs and people made me wish he still was.  Quickly, I was paranoid and anxious.  I wished I’d grabbed my gun, even though I would have struggled to use it anyhow. 

            I stumbled down the sidewalk and that spotlight of paranoia followed me.  People seemed to stand and wait for me to approach their groups and when I did, they screamed at me, poked me, kicked me, put cigarettes out on me.  They knew me.  They all knew me.  And they waited to punish me.  I was helpless- each hemisphere of my brain was its own.  No cohesion.  No teamwork.  I was on my own.  Part fear, part rage, part too aware, part unaware.  All a mess, and all by myself.  Tracers followed them, their smiles, their eyes.  Their fierce, hungry, rabid eyes.  I couldn’t focus on anything but their faces.  I saw signs but they jumbled just in time for me to read them.  My body moved without me moving it.  I wanted Delilah back with me and I continued down the sidewalk, sweating heavily. 

I took a heavy club to the stomach.  I didn’t feel the pain, but I knew it hurt.  On my knees, I was surrounded by Comfort’s finest.  They spit and cackled and kicked my face.  I vomited.  I stood myself up and took another two-ton fist to the jaw and crumbled to the sidewalk.

“We’re glad you could stick around for the fight, John,” the gas station punk kicked me in the gut and bent down.  Even with my brain broken with drugs, hearing my name again solidified my suspicions.  Comfort knew me.  We were nose-to-nose, me on my knees, dribbling out the remnants of my empty stomach.  He let out a wide-eyed cackle and I spit in his mouth.  He stood himself up quickly, brandishing the increasingly familiar, crackbrained, Comfort-sneer.  As he reared back his fist, I was struck again from behind and the clan of maniacs brought me to my feet.  I had no strength and my unsteadiness was at its peak.  As I began to collapse again, I felt two large hands under my arms, keeping me upright.

“John-boy,” Jerry held me up. “You can’t be out here with no shirt on, man! We have strict laws about that here in Comfort.”  He turned me around and we were face to face, both of us strong men, but one of us completely incapable.  Jerry’s eyes were red with thirst and his smile was gone, replaced by a black scowl that made the scars on his head protrude.  I wanted Jerry Lee Lewis back and I wanted the sunlight back and I wanted Jerry’s smile back.  I wanted my gun back and my dog back.  “The fight is soon, man, get your s**t together.”  Jerry threw me savagely into the wall and I was out.

 

I woke up in Jerry’s bar and I was alone.  The bench was warm and sticky with my blood.  From the bench, I could see there was a fireplace in the corner and in it burned a small fire.  I saw my shirt neatly folded on a tabletop, with my gun resting beside it.  Delilah’s pint glass was still on the floor; only a few drops of water dotted the floor around it.  I tried to rise from the bench when I realized Delilah was not there but I quickly fell to the floor, unaware of the bleeding gash in my right kneecap.

The phone rang behind the bar as I fumbled to put my shirt on over my throbbing, cigarette-burnt shoulder.  After only a few rings, I made it to the phone and picked it up.  Nobody there; a dial tone.  I put the receiver down and picked it back up.  There was a dial tone again and my face raged with red anger as I realized.  Jerry’s phone worked.  Of course I couldn’t go home the day of a fight.  Jerry was Comfort, the punk was Comfort, the two f*****g tramps were Comfort.  And Comfort wanted my dog for their fight.  I put my gun back in my waist and walked outside.

Only a few people were around Jerry’s bar, but down the strip, a raucous assembly had grown large in front of the concrete bubble.  My fears were fulfilled when I read the illuminated sign suspended over the mass of people:

TONIGHT:

DADDY

Vs.

Delilah

 

I squinted to see the sign better, but I knew what it said.  I began to limp towards the sign and I heard her behind me. 

            “Up from your nap already, John?” I turned around and the brunette sauntered towards me.  She was by herself, but she borrowed the redhead’s fiendish grin for this walk.  I stepped towards her and grabbed her around her throat before she could speak again.  I shook her violently and her throat gurgled as I quickly dragged her away from the crowd.  I dragged her into Jerry’s bar and thrashed her face with my fists and my gun until she stopped breathing and her heart stopped beating.

            When I went back outside, I wanted the redhead there.  Or the punk.  Or anyone.  I was thirsty and rabid.  I was a pit bull, cornered by the masses.  But everyone was going to watch my dog fight and nobody was outside Jerry’s bar.  I limped towards the crowd , which had thinned, as fast as I could.  People had made their way inside to watch my dog fight.  A few hundred feet before the outskirts of the crowd, I saw a younger boy straggling by himself across the street.  I hobbled across to him and before he could hear me come behind him, I whipped him with the grip of my gun.  I carried him with me and as I approached the handful of people still waiting to get inside, I held the gun to his head and worked my way through the clusters of people this way, using the boy’s head as ransom for easy bypass.  As I passed through, the deranged mob surrounded me and followed me and began to chant, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”  They were excited about watching my dog fight and judging by the legendary reputation of Daddy, I figured Delilah was in deep s**t.  And they rubbed it in my face. People moved aside for us, but they followed the boy and me.  They cackled like hyenas and some spit on us, but nobody hit me, nobody tried to help the boy, and everyone let us through. 

            Inside, there was a hellish raucous of wild, fast music, deep bass, and carnal vigor that only added to the drug-induced energy running through Comfort that night.  I could see the cage in the center of the concrete arena.  Two dogs fought and hundreds of people cried and shrieked and cheered.  I was sure that neither dog was Delilah.  I let the boy down to the ground gently and started to limp towards the cage, hoping to see Delilah somewhere.  Coming to the rear of the crowd, that strong hand turned me around.

            “John-boy,” Jerry’s smile was back. “Where you been, man? I was worried you would miss this!” He grabbed either shoulder and shook me enthusiastically, as though my dog was not part of the main event.  Just after pulling away from him, I pulled my gun from my waist and met it with the patch of scars on Jerry’s forehead.  I pulled the trigger without hesitation.  Jerry never blinked and only smirked wider.  Before or after he had neatly folded my shirt back at his bar, he had emptied my clip.  Of course. 

I hardly saw him start, but he lunged at me, throwing a staunch forearm to my chest.  I fell and he followed, landing directly on top of me.  With all his weight lying directly on top of me, I couldn’t move.  He was a well-built, powerful man and he held his nose to mine with intense composure, contradicting the ruthlessly riotous atmosphere.  “Get ready for the fight, man” he whispered firmly. “You’re sittin’ VIP tonight!”

            He jerked me up easily and quickly bound my hands together with thin wire while a couple hooligans held me firmly.  And Jerry steered me around the front of the cage, letting me hear the meaty snarls of the dogs as we passed.  As we came around to the other side of the fenced-in battle ring, someone behind me drew a bag over my head.  Lights out.  Jerry continued to push me and toss me through the other end of the crowd and soon, we had walked down a hallway, where we were far enough from the arena that I could hear him clearly when he spoke.

            “You worried about your pup, John?” Jerry asked, guiding me through a doorway and throwing me onto a chair. I sat silently and blindly, trying to digest my dog’s danger and my blindness.  “Only one of ‘em will walk away, but she doesn’t have to lose this fight, John. He’s strong, but Daddy has-”  he paused. “Daddy’s got his weaknesses. Like all daddies do, I guess. He could crush your precious pup in a heartbeat, man, but he won’t…I know it- he WON’T!” Something, maybe a chair, flew through the air and crashed violently against a wall, punctuating his anger.  “He is SOFT! And in the face of certain death, he just might let your f*****g dog walk,” he hissed, sending a thin veil of spitty mist onto my chest.  I didn’t understand Jerry’s anger, but I felt it in every word he spoke.  “But it’s on him. How much does he value his own life tonight?”  I waited for another blow, but it never came.

“John,” he was right in my ear, making sure I heard every word. “Delilah can walk away from this, but only if Daddy lets her win. He has to let her win. If she walks, he dies; if he walks, she dies. Nature of the beast, man. A fight to the finish. He is superior to her in every way,” he chuckled. “Except she’s a lot easier on the eyes.”  I heard his knees crack as he stood and started to pace again.  “She has a chance, is all I’m saying, John-boy. It might be a little hard for you to be a part of, since you’re kind of her daddy, but it’ll be a good fight. You look ready for a good fight. Are ya?” Jerry kicked me in the side of the head and knocked me off the chair and onto the floor. “How bad you wanna see your daughter, John?”

For the sake of my dog’s survival, I gutted down my feelings for Jerry and let him drag me back towards the arena without a fight. The people of Comfort hadn’t ceased in their thirst for a fight and they began again to chant when we reentered the large fight room. “DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!” they barked as Jerry led me closer to the cage. 

I felt I was again near the center of the madness when I was propelled into a short set of steps.  My chin hit true on one of the step corners and I began to bleed instantly.  Just as I comprehended what was happening, Jerry’s eager voice echoed through the arena.

“L-l-l-la-a-a-a-dies and gentlemen,” he boomed through the speakers as I was dragged up the stairs and into the ring. “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-booyeeees and gi-i-i-i-i-rls! The fight is-s-s-s NOT happening tonight!” The boos came loud and before they melded into super-boos, Jerry cut them off. “I’m KIDDING you lame f***s! We’re gonna have ourselves…a FI-I-I-I-I-I-GHT!” The crowd erupted into a heinous riot and a barrage of bottles and garbage pounded every side of the ring’s cage.  As the cloth bag was lifted from my head and the cage door was slammed shut behind me, the swarm of lunatics chanted and shrieked madly.  I brought my head up slowly to confirm my opponent.  It was Delilah, I knew, but it wasn’t.  They had given her something; she looked capable of pure berserk.  Her eyes rims blazed and her ears pinned themselves to the sides of her massive, pulsating head.  The most loyal creatures on the planet.  My dog, I would kill for.  She didn’t recognize me. She stood poised, only held back by the punk, who held the other end of a lead through the cage.  Her eyes were psychotic and salivating.  She was ready to survive.

“WI-I-I-I-I-NNER,” Jerry paused as the crowd hushed to a murmur. “TAA-A-A-A-KE,” Jerry extended an arena-skirting hand to the crowd, inducing an instant eruption. “A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-AAALL!”

           

Author's Note

please no aimless flaming; this story was done for a creative writing class i got to take before graduating college this past fall. just looking for comments and feedback regarding the story as a whole. most notably, what is good/bad about the story? what could be done differently?
thanks, in advance.