If I Were a Boxer

If I were a boxer, my favorite part of training would be when I get to drink raw eggs out of a clear glass. But I would never bulk up – my body would not gain weight – instead, I would remain so thin that you can see my ribcage (I always fight with my shirt off). Yet my arms would move fast, and I would duck and dodge very well.

I’d like to fight a series of matches and win them all, so that eventually I reach the top of the fighting pyramid to challenge the champion. I would then train long and hard, and drink many tall glasses of raw eggs, to prepare for the battle.

Now, on the day of the Big Match, I would enter the ring and stand facing my opponent: He would be a full foot taller than me plus notably stronger. In the First Round, he would almost knock me out. In the Second Round, I would mostly try to avoid him as he continues to swing at me. Then the bell would sound, signifying that the Second Round is over: I would stumble back and sit down on the chair in my corner, and my coach would slap the sides of my face and yell at me to keep me from passing out. At this point, my dream-girl would materialize beside me: she would lean down and whisper words of encouragement into my ear. (She smells like perfume.) This loving talk from my dream-girl would do wonders to revive my sense of fight. 

When the bell rings to note the start of Round Three, I would stand up and step straight forward and punch the champion’s face: KABAM! – the man would drop to the floor, and the referee would hold up my arm, signifying that I am the winner. My dream-girl would then run out into the center of the ring and embrace me, saying: “We can get married now!”