She’s in her mid-twenties, blonde with a very muscular body and a loud mouth. And she insisted on giving me a bad time about my pudgy gut.
“Face it, Tom.” Jenn said, “You’re jus’ an fat old man.”
“Yeah,” I responded, “But I can still take a punch to the gut with no problem.”
She reached over and poked my belly, laughing, “No you couldn’t.”
“Wanna bet?” I challenged.
Jenn smiled slyly, like she knew she’d already won the bet. I stayed quiet, letting her calculate if I were bluffing or not.
“You know I can bench press a couple hundred pounds, right?” she cautioned.
“That doesn’t scare me,” I replied, afraid my eyes were telegraphing my sudden doubt.
“Okay – here’s the deal,” Jenn offered. “I’ll punch you in the stomach once and we’ll see if you can take it. Then you can do the same to me.”
“Really?” I quizzed. “You’re serious.”
“Dead,” she shot back.
“Okay,” I answered. “But I don’t feel real comfortable about hitting a girl.”
“Yeah, old fat man,” she half-teased. “Already looking for an excuse, huh?”
I shook my head, “No. I jus’ don’t like hitting women.”
Jenn laughed. That was too much for me and I knew I had to answer her challenge as I pulled off my tee-shirt.
She lined up on me and let me have it. While it didn’t drop me or cause me to be winded or sick, Jenn’s punch was a hell of a lot harder than I had anticipated and I felt every knuckle from her fist.
It was now her turn.
She stripped off her tee-shirt, exposing a solid six-pack of stomach muscles. I let her set herself as I got ready to give her the best punch I could muster.
My fist slammed into the top ridge of muscles right under her rib-cage. I saw her eye’s bulge wildly as she gasped and dropped to the floor.
It took her a couple of minutes to regain herself.
When she did, she screeched, “What the hell, Darby — you mother-fucker! You actually hit me!”
All I could do is walk away, embarrassed and thinking, “Girls – they never fight fair.”