Blood, Blood, Blood… by remains on DeviantArt.com
You drag me into an argument that doesn’t even exist.
Fists start flying. Two on six.
You pop Frat Boy’s nose. He’s down.
Wide Shoulders charges. I trip him, teeth meeting table. He’s down.
Big Chuck throwing knives, inches from your nose.
You bing him with a glass mug. He’s down.
Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum vamoose.
Only this behemoth left. Mohawk. Arms like pythons.
Grabs a bottle. SMASH! Jagged edges, slashing.
“Down boy!”
He jabs. I pop his elbow. The bottle jams his neck, fountaining blood. He’s down, down.
“Whatda we do now?” you ask.
“I was never here.”
Scrawl Brawl 