…Blood spilled down and soaked Journeyman’s shorts; leather pounded and viciously scorched his exposed ribcage. Still he refused to drop down and continued to let his arms swing wildly back in the hope of scoring a bingo knockout...
…But Goldenboy in his dazzling designer shorts and on the fast track to stardom cranked up the pressure. He poured on the punches, a smirk crinkling his smooth, pretty features.
Perhaps the effects of the blows rattling his skull had sent him crazy but all Journeymen could think as he swayed rhythmically back and forth against the ropes was of his opponent’s shorts and gloves. The bright green, branded gloves of Goldenboy had become caked in claret and his showboating shorts didn’t look too clean anymore…
…Journeyman grinned a crooked smile; his lips a wonky mess. Kidology was all he had left. Maybe Goldenboy would be mentally knocked out by Journeyman’s bravery; repulsed by the effects of his own bloody artwork he had carved out on what had become wrecked canvas...
…Fat chance. Goldeboy moved back and lifted his hands in mock celebration, exposing his chin. Journeyman, ever the fool, took the bait and swung a looping left hook which sliced thin air. Caught off balance and with the right side of his face an open goal, Goldenboy pounced with a sizzling straight right hand that snapped Journeyman’s head back…
…Journeyman’s head spun up to the ceiling and flopped back down on its axis. From the bright lights of the ceiling to the dirt of the floor. How appropriate. His feet danced a groggy jig and he instinctively stumbled back to the ropes, covering his face and waiting for the finale. Goldenboy didn’t disappoint. A swivelled hook chiselled into Journeyman’s body and he let out an involuntarily wheezy groan, dropping his hands to his side. A grin widening on his face, Goldenboy dipped his knees down and then sprung a booming uppercut that lifted Journeyman off his feet…
…And then, and then…
…He flew. Sailed through the air like a kite. As a kid Journeyman had always wanted to fly and this was his fantasy coming true. Stars in the sky and an awestruck crowd; what more could he want…
…The dream came to its inevitable conclusion as Journeyman’s rope-burned back slapped across the ring’s canvas like a fish hitting the deck of a fisherman's ship. Goldenboy jumped onto the ring post, flexing his muscles, milking the crowd’s rapturous applause…
…Journeyman didn’t need to wish for a trap door to appear. He was the invisible man anyway. Just a piece of wooden ridge on a ladder enabling a better, quicker, fitter youngster to make his fortune and fame. Still, at least he had his moment in the sun, flying, sailing through the sky…