Jul 19th 2011, 13:43 by E O Hatterpol | 1228 AU FROM SUN
The crotch-level slat slid shut, eight-some-odd locks clicked open and the rusty metal door swang inwards. This was it.
I stepped into a huge room blasting with so many Caribbean sound waves it was like I was swimming. A pretty girl with evenly-toned brown skin and thin, shoulder-length dreads pushed to one side welcomed me. I liked her thick-rimmed black glasses. They reminded me of Ravi the Bookman's.
The room was maybe eighty feet by forty, with two rows of thick, square concrete columns down the middle that separated the room into three long rectangles. Turntables and a massive speaker system were the only furniture. The rest was just bare floor, and it was dusty around the outside like someone had tracked in sand. The inner column was swept clean. It was stained faintly red.
“Welcome to Heartbreak's Ragga Dancehall,” the girl said, spreading her arms wide, “where no one is king for very long. Look – they're about to begin! Make sure you pay close attention.”
She led me through the throng of onlookers; they had threaded themselves in and around the columns, forming a kind of rectangular battlefield whose borders were defined by human flesh. The challengers detached themselves from the mob and approached each other in the middle; one was a man in track pants with no shirt, ebony pecs gleaming; the other was a pasty white girl.
The DJ spun a track so Jamaican it'd jerk a chicken; everyone picked up on its vibe, hooping and hollering their encouragement. Even though I was 114 billion miles away from the islands, I half-expected the Beenie Man to show up and start going at it.
Men came around yelling odds and taking bets. I wished sorely that I had had some $$B on me; I would've put it all on the tall black man.
The two fighters touched fists, then backed off to start. The black man lunged across the room with a sweep kick; the girl nimbly avoided it with a back hand spring. He sprang up from the sweep kick into kind of a hoo-oo-GAH! triple air kick; the girl swatted each one aside, then headbutted the poor bloke's crotch.
He dropped out of the air and cracked his head open on the concrete floor. He was unconscious and losing a lot of blood; otherwise I imagine he would have cradled his manhood in pain.
The two fighters touched fists, then backed off to start. The black man lunged across the room with a sweep kick; the girl nimbly avoided it with a back hand spring. He sprang up from the sweep kick into kind of a hoo-oo-GAH! triple air kick; the girl swatted each one aside, then headbutted the poor bloke's crotch.
He dropped out of the air and cracked his head open on the concrete floor. He was unconscious and losing a lot of blood; otherwise I imagine he would have cradled his manhood in pain.
The crowd of onlookers went wild, running up to the bookie to take their winnings and place new bets. Friends exchanged cash between each other outside of the bookie's reach; I couldn't believe how much gambling there was here! I really liked it!!
“Who's fighting next?” I asked eagerly.
“Did you pay good attention?”
“Riveted!”
“Good. Because you're next.”
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