I Think This Is a New Record!

Yessiree...indeed...this'll make 15 straight posts by yours truly Dario Tsunami! If you've liked anything over the last 14 days, it's thanks to ME! And if you've hated anything over the same span of time, well, it's all MY FJAULT! I accept full responsibility. However, as a reward, I'll treat you to the latest Tsunami short story that emerged in word document form. (cutting and pasting and trying to "formatically edit" doesn't really work in blogger land) I hope you like...


Private Detective Vic Riley’s fist traveled in a short straight line, and slammed into Slim Jimmy’s mouth. It was a tough punch. The knuckle impacted Jimmy’s top incisor and it cracked, but the punch continued it‘s work, and knocked the tooth right out of his skull. Roots were ripped out along with it, and inside his jaw, nerves fired electric lightning bolts into the back of his head. Blood pooled and spilled out of the hole, over his lips and mouth. The crowd in the bar made a variety of sounds, so that all at once they sounded like a collective,
“Ooooh.”
Slim Jimmy shook his head, then felt around in his mouth with his tongue. His tongue fished out the tooth, lodged in the back by his molars, and brought it to the front of his mouth, where he spit it out - and under a barstool. He smiled a big grin with a black and bloody hole in it. Slim Jimmy was sort of a misplaced moniker, since he weighed in at 326. And while he wasn’t ripped, few large men needed to be, to be strong. Anyways, his job as a bouncer at the “Nextdoor Pub,” (which coincidentally happened to be right next door to Mortimers - the bar where the fight was happening) made him all the more ready for the rough stuff. It also made the patrons that much more interested in what was going to be the outcome.
“Get outta’ my way,” Vic said, “Or it’s gonna’ get worse. I don‘t have time to play”
Slim Jimmy continued grinning as blood ran down his chin and made small splotches on his white wrestling shoes, and the floor. Then he rushed forward in a roar, arms outstretched and head down. Vic tried to get an uppercut under his jaw, but it bounced harmlessly off Jimmy’s cheek. Then the mountain hit him.
He was lifted off his feet and carried through the air, caught between Jimmy’s arms and shoulders. He stopped when his back slammed into the jukebox. Things popped and ripped through his back. Things that for good health and posture, shouldn’t be popping and ripping. Vic slumped to the floor as Jimmy backed off, glass from the jukebox fell over his coat. He didn’t have enough awareness to know what sound the crowd was making.
Jimmy stepped back, and noticed next to him a wooden table not yet cleared, and full of empty bottles. He picked them up and fired them rapidly at his opponent. One clocked Vic in the temple, another caught square in his sternum. Two shattered on the jukebox. Vic gave himself a grim smile as he crawled towards Jimmy through the glass. Along the way he picked up the top of a broken beer bottle. He knew Slim was just playing, and the rest wouldn’t be too hard.
He reached his feet, and leapt forward towards Jimmy’s legs. All the while Jimmy was throwing what seemed like a never-ending supply of beer bottles at him. Two struck hard, like clubs on his back, knocking him down on his hands and knees. He reached around the wrestling shoes as a high-ball glass shattered against his head. At least he was out of heavy ammo for the moment. Then he dug the broken bottle deep into the Achilles-tendon of Slim Jimmy’s left leg, and turned it.
Slim Jimmy went down like a zebra with a leopard on his back. Blood covered the white wrestling shoes and Vic’s hands. Jimmy looked up with pure shock, not hate.
“Jeezus Vic, whythafuck didja do that?”
“Jimmy,” Vic disentangled himself from the huge man, “I told you I didn’t have time to play!”