To run the jiu-jitsu recap briefly, two of my employees have, thus far, executed two lovely examples of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu:
Barback with the low, crushing knee-on-belly
Bouncer with the 1000-lb mount, and basic mount retention
Alright, so I was standing in the threshold of the door which leads out to the alley, telling Bad Patron #1, a short guy, that he was not allowed to come back in anymore. Discouraged, I was sure, by my decibel level and height, he turned away with little more than a whimper.
But then, my audience, I see that Bad Patron #2 is on the approach! Is he about to swing at me?
No, he walks just passed me. Well, he tried. I stopped him, obviously – it’s my job to stop him.
“Yo! I just kicked you out of here. Do not come back anymore,” I yelled at him. He raises his arm to put his hand on my chest and push me out of his way. But I’m wise to this guy’s shenanigans now, and realize that goddamn backhanded negotiations are his chief export. This time, I’m not having any of it.
BP#2 is not stopping. He is reaching toward me with his left arm. I grabbed his left wrist with my right hand, with the intention of angling his arm down – so he can’t really push me anymore. Then I grabbed the back of his left elbow with my left arm, and arm-dragged him.
I’m positioned on his side now. I’m safe, now that BP#2 has no good angles to hit me. His left shoulder is pinned against my chest. My right arm is gripped on his farside lat muscle. “I said you can NOT come in!”
Then BP#2 starts to double-over right there in my arms. What the hell is happening, exactly? Did I accidentally hit this guy in the nuts? Is he vomiting – right now?! – in my arms? Has the man finally lost the will to fight? Did this guy just spontaneously break into tears? What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening?
Then I feel it. My forearm alerts me to a hard, pinching sensation. This son of a bitch just PINCHED me while doubled-over? I put my right hand on the back of his jawline and shove, hard, while jerking my left arm away from the pinching sensation. He staggers for a few feet – he is drunk as balls too, of course – while I look down at the locus of the pinch.
Before my eyes in the yellowed light of the alley, I see a crescent of irregular puncture wounds on my forearm. Inside of this crescent is a big, purple mound of bruised skin – undoubtedly the source of the pinching sensation. I stared at this odd imprint of my body for a few seconds – those few strange seconds when you know you’ve been cut, you can see the various arrays of tissues you normally can not, but before the cut begins to bleed.
Then I saw droplets of blood filter out of the irregular holes, and the gravity of what just happened hit me full-force. Bouncer and Barback, having lost sight of me for a few seconds (while knowing I was dealing with this guy), opened the back door wide and asked if everything was okay.
“This motherfucker just bit me.” I was starting to lose my signature JJW cool.
“What?!” they both asked.
“This motherfucker just BIT me!” I yelled, while brandishing my bleeding-from-a-human-bite arm, showing my employees and friends what just happened to me.
This all happened in a matter of seconds. BP#2 had staggered a few feet from my push, and was now facing the three of us in the alley. His back was against the green dumpster. It took but a split second for us to fan out, making escape for him impossible. Nooo, he was not going anywhere without my permission. Barback licked his Indian lips. Bouncer popped the knuckles on his tiny little hands. This is the face of a nail before it’s about to be hit by the hammer – the 190-lb Mexican hammer who happens to be pretty good at jiu-jitsu, who had went out of his way to do no harm…and who was now officially pissed the fuck off.
As he was trapped there, wondering what was about to happen next, it took me two seconds to plan out my revenge match. This son of a bitch would pay for biting me. I saw such scenes:
Ankle Pick, because (a) his reactions are likely terribly delayed and (b) it’s not so easy to correctly counterstrike against → Side-Mount, as heavy as I could possibly make it → Americana, I decided was the price for assaulting me.
Then, in those five seconds from the point I discovered I had actually been bitten by a non-zombie human to my decision on what finished submission BP#2 had earned, I calmed down. It all went away. I remembered my Russian wielding the Maglite-truncheon at the front door. Anyone who messed with her surely would be shown no goddamn mercy. I was no mood.
“Fuck this guy,” I said to my friends. Then we turned around, left him unharmed in the alley, and went back into the bar.
The three of us went back into the bar, and there had been no further issues. I found my Russian at the door, and relieved her of her responsibility. Then I saw both some police, and good ol’ buddy boy BP#2 slinking around the alley. The evidence for his guilty, luckily in this case, was still streaming with blood. So after a little ado, I grabbed the cops and the man was arrested for assault. The hardest part, for me at least, was listening to him lie his face off to the cops, denying he had bitten me or fought with my friends/employees or any of that prolonged, exceptionally silly bullshit he tried to pull.
Thanks for reading. I think I have one more good one before I put this series back on the shelf. Thanks again!