Tag: Fist fight

That last blow turned my head inside out and scrambled my brains. I didn’t have a fucking clue where the hell I was, but instinct kicked in and I started bobbing and weaving—a moving target would be hard to hit. I figured I could buy some time until my head cleared. But I was so wrong. Or maybe I was right, and it was this asshole who didn’t get that a moving target was supposed to be hard to hit because the bastard clobbered me with another whopper—this one to the side of my head—making me see double, triple even.