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Authors: Devon Hartford
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slice off a finger or a nose, but no one got hurt.
“That was awesome!” Daniel gasped. “I wanna do that, Mom!”
Terrific. Kicks and punches were one thing. Sword fighting was another. I didn’t want my son getting beheaded.
“Please! Can I?!”
“We’ll have to see what your dad says.” I hoped Donald said no. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I was already the bad guy more often than not.
“Give them a round of applause, everybody,” the announcer said over the microphone. The boys with the swords took a bow and ran off the blue mats. “Next up is what most of you came for. Lion Maxwell is here tonight to celebrate the grand opening of our newest dojo! Everybody give it up for Lion Maxwell!”
The crowd whistled and cheered.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” Lion said over the microphone.
That voice…
Ooze.
Oh no.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
I immediately ducked down below the shoulders of the two men in front of me. “Daniel, we should really go,” I hissed.
“But you said we could stay, Mom!”
“Okay, okay.” I promised myself I wouldn’t be the bad guy. Maybe Lion wouldn’t notice me.
Lion rolled into the middle of the big room in a wheelchair.
That was odd. I could see him using crutches, but a wheelchair? Was the injury worse than it appeared on the MRI? Or had he not followed his therapy protocol closely enough? Something told me a rule breaker like Lion had probably done exactly that.
“How’re you all doing tonight?” Lion asked through the microphone.
The crowd applauded. A few people whistled.
“I can’t tell you how excited I am that we’re opening this new dojo here in Burbank. You guys are incredible. Thank you so much for coming out tonight.”
More cheering.
“Some of you probably heard I got hurt during my last fight.” Murmurs from the crowd. “Nothing to worry about. The doctors said they can fix it. I have surgery in a couple of weeks. Right now, you’re probably wondering about the wheelchair. With my knee out of commission, I got to wondering about all the ways you could teach martial arts to people who spend their lives in a wheelchair. Just because they’re disabled doesn’t mean they’re helpless. Martial arts are for everybody. Lemme give you a demonstration. Robert? You mind coming up here a second?”
A tall muscular young man who wore a gold uniform and a black belt and looked about seventeen trotted across the mats toward Lion. He stopped and bowed before dropping into a fighting stance.
“Robert, go ahead and take a shot.”
“Sir.” Robert nodded and bowed again. Then he danced around on his toes in front of Lion for a moment before throwing a lightning fast punch.
Lion exploded into action—still sitting in the wheelchair—and trapped Robert’s arm, yanking him forward. Robert stumbled and Lion twisted the young man’s torso so he fell face first into Lion’s lap. Lion’s elbow arced up and down in a flash, stopping a millimeter from cracking the back of Robert’s skull.
Scattered applause from the crowd.
Robert got up and tried again. Every time he threw a punch or a kick, Lion blocked him and subdued him, all while sitting in the wheelchair. After numerous attempts, Robert was breathless. Lion hadn’t even broken a sweat.
I was amazed by Lion’s ferocity when he took action but also impressed by his restraint. I was also a little bit turned on by his rampant masculinity. Even limited by the wheelchair, he was in total control.
“Thanks, everybody,” Lion said, taking the microphone back from one of his uniformed helpers. “Give Robert a hand.” People clapped. “As you can see, being in a wheelchair doesn’t mean you’re helpless.”
Someone from the audience asked, “Do you teach wheelchair classes? My nephew is paraplegic.”
“We do. Talk to me about it after tonight’s demo.”
“I will.” She seemed pleased.
“Any other questions?”
For the next fifteen minutes, Lion answered whatever the audience
“That was awesome!” Daniel gasped. “I wanna do that, Mom!”
Terrific. Kicks and punches were one thing. Sword fighting was another. I didn’t want my son getting beheaded.
“Please! Can I?!”
“We’ll have to see what your dad says.” I hoped Donald said no. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I was already the bad guy more often than not.
“Give them a round of applause, everybody,” the announcer said over the microphone. The boys with the swords took a bow and ran off the blue mats. “Next up is what most of you came for. Lion Maxwell is here tonight to celebrate the grand opening of our newest dojo! Everybody give it up for Lion Maxwell!”
The crowd whistled and cheered.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” Lion said over the microphone.
That voice…
Ooze.
Oh no.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
I immediately ducked down below the shoulders of the two men in front of me. “Daniel, we should really go,” I hissed.
“But you said we could stay, Mom!”
“Okay, okay.” I promised myself I wouldn’t be the bad guy. Maybe Lion wouldn’t notice me.
Lion rolled into the middle of the big room in a wheelchair.
That was odd. I could see him using crutches, but a wheelchair? Was the injury worse than it appeared on the MRI? Or had he not followed his therapy protocol closely enough? Something told me a rule breaker like Lion had probably done exactly that.
“How’re you all doing tonight?” Lion asked through the microphone.
The crowd applauded. A few people whistled.
“I can’t tell you how excited I am that we’re opening this new dojo here in Burbank. You guys are incredible. Thank you so much for coming out tonight.”
More cheering.
“Some of you probably heard I got hurt during my last fight.” Murmurs from the crowd. “Nothing to worry about. The doctors said they can fix it. I have surgery in a couple of weeks. Right now, you’re probably wondering about the wheelchair. With my knee out of commission, I got to wondering about all the ways you could teach martial arts to people who spend their lives in a wheelchair. Just because they’re disabled doesn’t mean they’re helpless. Martial arts are for everybody. Lemme give you a demonstration. Robert? You mind coming up here a second?”
A tall muscular young man who wore a gold uniform and a black belt and looked about seventeen trotted across the mats toward Lion. He stopped and bowed before dropping into a fighting stance.
“Robert, go ahead and take a shot.”
“Sir.” Robert nodded and bowed again. Then he danced around on his toes in front of Lion for a moment before throwing a lightning fast punch.
Lion exploded into action—still sitting in the wheelchair—and trapped Robert’s arm, yanking him forward. Robert stumbled and Lion twisted the young man’s torso so he fell face first into Lion’s lap. Lion’s elbow arced up and down in a flash, stopping a millimeter from cracking the back of Robert’s skull.
Scattered applause from the crowd.
Robert got up and tried again. Every time he threw a punch or a kick, Lion blocked him and subdued him, all while sitting in the wheelchair. After numerous attempts, Robert was breathless. Lion hadn’t even broken a sweat.
I was amazed by Lion’s ferocity when he took action but also impressed by his restraint. I was also a little bit turned on by his rampant masculinity. Even limited by the wheelchair, he was in total control.
“Thanks, everybody,” Lion said, taking the microphone back from one of his uniformed helpers. “Give Robert a hand.” People clapped. “As you can see, being in a wheelchair doesn’t mean you’re helpless.”
Someone from the audience asked, “Do you teach wheelchair classes? My nephew is paraplegic.”
“We do. Talk to me about it after tonight’s demo.”
“I will.” She seemed pleased.
“Any other questions?”
For the next fifteen minutes, Lion answered whatever the audience
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