Translated by Lili Potpara
"Bravo, champ," they tapped me on the shoulder as I fought my way down the corridor. I noticed two or three reporters, so I speeded up my steps. My coach was waiting at the door of the locker room; I quickly pulled him in and shut the door.
The coach, too, began to thump me on the back.
"Bravo, champ!" he enthused, "congratulations, well done, state heavyweight champion!"
"Some champion," I mumbled, "some state!" I took off my clothes. "That means I beat the hell out of the other three contenders. Bravo! The one today must have been forty." I stepped under the shower and opened the way for lukewarm water.
"Oh, come on, don't," the coach's words fought through the murmur of the sprinkle, "thirty-seven. And two pounds heavier than you."
"And three sons, brats like the father," I struggled on, shampooing myself.
"Leave the brats alone, you did well," he cheered, "European championship's coming in two months, and everybody agrees your chances are good. Mighty good chances, champ," he rubbed his hands.
"If I thought I didn't stand a chance, I wouldn't box," I soaped myself, "especially not in these state championships." With special lovingness I cleaned my dick, which had great expectations for the night. "I'll win the European, and then all of them, one after the other." I wrapped myself in the towel, and left the water running, on purpose. In front of the mirror I showed off some quick punches. Vividly I pictured what I had in store for all those who would cross my path. I was really good, that is.
"OK, champ, take a rest, we're free tomorrow, then training!" The reporters banged on the door.
Naked and angry I stepped to the door, opened it and swaggered before their gaping eyes. "BOOO" I said and shut the door. Then there was peace.
***
When I got home, I couldn't see a soul, although it was only midnight. My body had cooled down, and I felt every blow I'd gotten today. "I should've destroyed the dumbo in the first round," I growled.
I found my woman in the bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy blanket; the reading lamp was still on, the book had slipped onto the floor. "Hello honey bunny," I greeted her, my willie woke up and like a brave forerunner swayed ten inches before me. "You haven't done it with a champ yet, little beast, as far as I know," I bragged as I crawled into the warm nest. My Attila throbbed and grew some more.
"Honey bunny wants to sleeeep," my sweetheart mumbled, "I have to work tomorroooow!"
"Damn," I said, "I won! You could at least ask, don't you think?"
"Bravo, but you always win anyway," she was tiresome, "I've got to get up at half past five!" Firmly she turned her back on me.
"We'll celebrate a little," I nagged on, grabbed under her nightie and tried to install my tool.
"Leave me alone!" she pushed me away, quite angrily, "look how late it is!" And was fast asleep.
I gave up, offended. I was still in the mood for eroticism, but for a state heavyweight champ to wank off - no way. This isn't a cartoon strip. Despite my sour mood I was quite tired, so I finally went to sleep.
***
The following days I trained at leisure, ate proteins, jogged and lifted some weights. My woman was coming home late at night; she was busying herself with some big project or something. I was used to it. And then she flopped on the bed, tired and all, and of course it was too late for love. I tried at half past nine, but it didn't help. Eventually I gave up. And jogged some more.
***
One fine day I came home early in the afternoon and was surprised to see my sweetheart in. She looked at me very seriously, so what? I stretched myself and sniffed my armpits with genuine pleasure.
"I have to talk to you," she said with a voice that told everything even to the dumbest dumbo, "something happened."
"You messed around with someone, right?" I snarled, "did you or didn't you, bitch? Eh? Who did you mess around with?!" I was curious to know, of course.
She grew quite pale. "I fell in love," the words slipped heavily from her tongue.
"I knew it, slut!" I howled and raised my hand, so that sweetheart shrank in half, "I'll give you falling in love! Round the ears! Who's that guy who'd take my woman from me?!" But I didn't hit her. I calmed my voice: "Who, honey bunny, is your new friend, thanks to whom I haven't gotten my oats for a week?" I could hardly believe this was happening to me.
"It wasn't like this," she wiggled, "you don't understand."
"What's there to understand, eh?" I puffed and clenched my jaws.
"It just happened, by itself," she pulled out of the armoury of female arguments, "we met by chance, a few days ago. I didn't want to, it was like magic..."
"If I give you magic, you'll forget your name!" I bellowed, "but after all, I don't care. What does he do for a living, your magician, heh?"
"Oh," she said, as if I cared, "he's an artist. Musician."
"What?" I yelled, "a music man? If he were a sword swallower, all right! He plays the accordion? Or the guitar in some sleazy bar?"
"No, no, no," she shielded her face with her hands, "he's a violinist! We met in the philharmonia, after a concert, he plays the second violin, you never cared to go to concerts with me..."
"Aaa, a fiddler, a hero, great!" blood rushed to my face, "he has no dick so he rubs the fiddle!"
I pointed my finger at the door: "RAUS, you dirty frigid slut!!! Never to see you again! Out with you! Off to your philharmonia or the opera or the circus, I don't want to set my eyes on you again! Go caterwauling together, idiots, best of luck!"
Sweetheart left as quickly as possible.
***
For half an hour I lay on the bed and breathed heavily. Then I put on a silk shirt and buttoned it only on the navel, putting my hairy chest and golden chain on display. Exactly what I wanted. I mounted the Norton like a faithful horse and rode to Joško's Pub mostly on the back wheel.
"Is there anybody stronger than me!?" I yelled from the door and strained all my muscles, including those not important for boxing, which I cultivated out of pure pleasure. The men there present stared at the glasses before them with great interest and toyed with their lighters. Their lady friends eyed me through their lashes.
"Don't, champ," Joško was wringing his hands behind the bar, "not again! Not today, please." Beads of sweat glistened all over his forehead.
"It's all right," I soothed him, and with a single gulp emptied the liqueur of the closest missy, so that her eyes misted over mysteriously. "Just empty the back room. And bring a barrel of rum and three whores!" I thought for a moment. "Four whores, more precisely."
"Cool it," Joško slobbered, "the back room isn't heated and..."
"Goddamned!" I hit the bar with my fist, "don't joke with me! Have it heated, in five minutes! And decorated to my taste, in six minutes!" I emptied the drink of the nearest lady's escort and grabbed her thigh, but the escort looked at me so pleadingly that I abandoned some plans and let go of the thigh.
"I'll sell my little woman, sure
and trade her for a whore,"
I sang in a velvety baritone and broke into the spare room. "Make it five, Joško, and two barrels," I ordered, it was a very special day after all. "And a fiddler for the atmosphere, Joško!" I added.
***
The night lasted till morning and on, and Joško did his best. He had no choice; once before he'd called the police, but was soon informed that the boss of those devils was a good friend of mine, a former heavyweight champ, who immediately restored law and order to my taste and joined the party. And Joško earned a three months suspended sentence.
The five whores were splendid, and so was the violinist, but I don't mean to describe the party. There are far too many digressions of this kind in literature, and one too often gets the impression that some authors grab for the pen just for the the pleasure they get in talking about those things. Anyway, early in the afternoon the barrels were empty, the ladies tired, the Gipsy fell over, I saddled my Norton and - where else but to the philharmonia. They'd just finished the rehearsal.
"Listen, pal," I dunked a banknote into the breast pocket of the doorman, "which one of those sods is the second violin? You know, I'd like to ask him something."
The bloke the doorman pointed at was dragging his feet down the hall, he was among the last to leave. I could've guessed he was the one. "Hey, hi," I blocked his way and gallantly pushed him through the nearest door, into some dark closet. "We'll exchange a few words."
"Excuse me," the fellow tried to get away, "this will be..."
"This will be some heavy shit," I helped him out. I could hardly believe my eyes. Bantamweight, I judged, when I grabbed him by the necktie and lifted him a little. And the muzzle - any decent hamster would be ashamed of it.
"For Christ's sake, what is this now, sir, will you please..." he tossed and turned.
"You!" I growled, "you mangy whimp, you mucky rat, you think you can fuck my woman, eh?!" I shook him so that his glasses dropped off and the change from his pocket fell out. "You stinking worm - you think you can get into my rosebud?"
"Don't, sir," he squealed and tried not to let go of the violin case, "do calm down! Let's talk decently, like two civilised..."
I shoved him into the wall so that his ribs screeched.
"You know what?" I lectured, "civilised people don't stick their skinny pricks where they have no business at all." And I illustrated the words with a kick in the groin.
"But, sir," he whined, "L. and I love each other, and it's truly not right that you should..."
"Love," I was fed up, "did you say 'love', you frog? You want me to break your fingers, little worm?" I lifted him higher. "You need a tool to play music, right?" I sent my knee into the case this time. "For love, too, you need a tool. Even more so!" And I kicked him in the balls again. "This is my first warning," I announced and held him with my left hand before me like a bag. Then I placed a beautiful direct right on his nose, the cartilage crunched and a few drops of blood exploded.
"This time it was the nose," I said while he was squirming on the floor, "and if I find you any closer than five miles away from my woman, I'll rip it off!" I took the violin from the case. "And not the nose, you know what I mean, mate." I fingered the strings. "A Stradivarius, second-hand," I judged amateurishly, dropped the instrument on the floor and stepped on it. "Don't play with horned beasts!" I wiggled my fingers and left. I left the bike in the parking lot; I'm not crazy to ride in such states.
***
The following days I didn't train much, I mostly lay about in bed. The coach pleaded over the phone, he even came over in person, but I only growled. My friend, the police chief, also moaned. Of course, the little shit denounced me. He'll regret it, I decided. I was truly and deeply sad. I even cried a little. I smashed some furniture and the neighbour from downstairs who'd come to complain about the "unbearable noise".
***
My woman rushed in like a bolt from the sky.
"Beast!" she screamed from the door, "monster, idiot, pig, animal!" she yelled, and kept hitting me with her handbag on the face. I lay on the bed and didn't defend myself. "You beastly pig, you almost killed him!" She stamped and protested. I stretched myself and moved into sitting position. "And the violin, how could you, bastard! Animal, animal, animal!!!" she was still hitting me.
"Honey bunny, you're pretty when you raise objections," I rapidly grabbed her hand. "Sexy!"
"Leave me alone, you disgust me!" she went mad and tried to break free. "I knew you were an animal, but to maim an innocent person! I lived with a monster!"
"Women are trouble," I grinned and grabbed her other hand. I pulled her to me onto the bed. She yelled, kicked and scratched. She was wonderful. "Better with a monster than with a muskrat," I mused, although I knew nothing about muskrats, not even if they existed at all.
"Take your paws off me," the girl squealed, "I'll start yelling, I'll scream!"
"But not for long," I instructed her and shut her beak. "Now, honey bunny, I'll show you the breakfast of champions!" I reached under her skirt, her resistance was useless, with a single move I whipped off her knickers and tights. She growled like a dragon, but I could clearly feel that the skin on her thighs and bum was bristling. "It's all right, my pretty honey bunny," I started licking her neck, which bristled as well. She moaned a little.
"You're crazy," she said when I tore the blouse from her breasts, but she no longer scratched.
"As you put it," I said, licked her belly, and still held her with my left hand, just in case. "You're wonderful, honey bunny, let the maestro do his business!" She resisted less and less. I slid my sex organ into her sex organ.
"Pig," she moaned and moved her hips.
"Bitch," I said, let go of her hands and hugged her hungrily.
"Do it, do it," she said.
"Yes, yes," I said and we rubbed our bodies against each other.
"Give it to me, Satan," she groaned.
"It will be my greatest honour and pleasure, pretty one," I grunted.
"You didn't truly believe I'd leave you for that earwig, for that fiddler," she sighed and squeezed me with her legs with all her might.
"Of course not," I whispered and shut her mouth with a long, hot kiss.