The Missed Shot

We were there for a party.
But not everyone was.
I stumbled by a pool table
and upset the shooter.
He spun on me
with venom in his eyes.
I tried to apologize,
but my apologies fell
on drunken ears.
I narrowly missed
a punch to the jaw.
Never shying from a fight,
I spring-loaded my elbow
and struck the asshole,
The palm of my hand
finding his soft wide nose
and breaking it.
He screamed
like a monkey
And tried a bear hug.
I grabbed him
by the insides of his arms
and drove my knee
into his crouch
several times.
He collapsed
When I released him
And rolled on the floor
In a fetal position.
I looked around for you
and met the eyes
of another billiards hood.
He swung his beer bottle
and I blocked his blow,
stepped inside
and punched him
in the throat.
He slumped to the floor
grasping his neck
and rolling back and forth
beside his buddy.
After accounting
for both pool players,
I turned again
to look for you.
But like a B movie brawl,
one last jackass
stepped out of the shadows,
swinging a pool stick.
I took it from him
and set it on a pool table.
I made it perfectly clear
that this fight
was mano a mono.
This idiot was not as drunk
as his cohorts.
He approached carefully,
subtly circling around me.
When he finally swung
his head-sized fist,
I pushed it past me
and moved around him,
striking both kidneys
in rapid succession.
He started to fall forward
and I swept his legs
to help him
to the floor.
I finally found you
yacking on your phone
by the bathroom.
Is my fighting
so blasé now?
I drag you to the bar
where I pay our tab
in cash.
and give the bartender
a hundred
to forget what I look like.
I leave the parking lot
with my lights off
and you’re texting Suzy
to tell her what an ass
your boyfriend is.
I sigh,
put the Jeep in gear,
and take us home.