#63-14: night, under a minute, eye-witness

I was seated in the lunch room with the other members of a night crew in a supermarket. White Pimp Chocolate, 5’8” & 132 lbs, and Archie, an aspiring poet, 6’6” & 270 lbs, were arguing about Archie’s beloved girlfriend, who White Pimp Chocolate wanted to add to his already well-stocked harem of hos. The animosity between these two was long running, and things went physical in a hurry.

The lunchroom was six by ten feet. Archie advanced for a frontal choke which resulted in a twisting clinch. White Pimp Chocolate countered with a waist tackle and drove the big man up against the wall between the Coke machine and the scheduling board. Archie bent foreword for a reverse waist-lock, only to be heaved off his feet. As Archie’s feet slapped back down on the floor his eyes bugged out, and he said to me, “He picked me up!”

I said, “He’s taking you down—better call it.”

Archie’s look of surprise turned to one of horror as he realized that he was about to become the shortest man in the room. Archie tapped, and White Pimp Chocolate strutted to his seat rapping about “slappin’ hos en slayin’ giants,” and declaring himself something of an urban legend, “A Hundred-en-thirty-two pounds a twisted steel en sex-appeal!”

Chuck and I did have five stick-fighting sessions with White Pimp Chocolate, in which he proved himself psychotically aggressive. He had played hockey throughout his childhood and teens, and made sure he got his licks in before Chuck and I knocked him unconscious. He was so dangerous we had to take him out, which resulted in him racking up too many concussions to continue. He was ultra-competitive by nature and could not put on the brakes for sparring.

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