Read Online Buster Midnight's Cafe by Sandra Dallas - Free Book Online
Authors: Sandra Dallas
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Chick acted like his trainer and got the water bucket and the towel and the mouth sponge, though he didn’t know any more what to do with them than the rest of us. Buster was the only one who knew fighting, and that was only because he helped Toney train and used to hang around the Centerville Gym.
I never knew the real name of the man he fought. He was called the Butte Bomber. Buster said he was just some bum, but he looked dangerous to us. He was bigger than Buster, who was no peaweight himself, and he had a broken nose and Happy ears like cartoons you see of prize-fighters. He climbed through the ropes and sneered at Buster, then said so everybody could hear, “Where do they get these kids?”
Like I said, Buster never got flustered, even in his very first fight. He stood there, quiet, just like a gentleman, while Chick laced up his gloves.
May Anna was cool, too, though me and Whippy Bird were sweating buckets. She just smiled sweetly at Buster, kind of like a Madonna, with her hands folded in her lap, her head high. It was the first time I noticed May Anna had a neck like a goose. I think she’d already started practicing being an actress.
Pink sat down next to me. He was sweating, too, with little beads of perspiration standing out on his face. It was as hot there as it ever gets in Butte, but it wasn’t only the heat that got to Pink. He found out the Butte Bomber just about killed somebody in his last fight, and Pink being the damn fool he sometimes was, he told us all about it, so we were scared for Buster. Whippy Bird said if he told that to Buster, she personally would kill him. May Anna wasn’t frightened though. “Buster will take care of Mr. Butte Bomber,” she said.
We weren’t as sure as May Anna. Buster came out of his corner quiet, not looking scared, but not looking like he was out for a fight either. He never glanced at us, not once, but I was sure he knew right where May Anna was sitting. When the fight started, he danced around with the Bomber for a few minutes in those tight shoes. Meanwhile, we were hoping and praying Buster could just keep doing that for four rounds without getting killed.
After dancing for what seemed like an hour, the Butte Bomber lashed out at Buster. Buster dodged him, and they went back to sidestepping. It didn’t start as much of a fight, them just moving around, making little swipes and dodging each other. A couple of times, the Butte Bomber connected, and once he knocked Buster down for a count of two. We were worried when that happened, but Buster hopped right up. He told us later the only reason he fell was because of those tight shoes. It was a pretty boring start, the boys said, and they knew more about it than me and Whippy Bird. It was so boring, in fact, that when the second round ended, people booed.
I think that was what got Buster going. Up to that time, he was just trying to get along without being hurt. But the crowd booed Kid McKnight, and Buster was responsible for Kid McKnight’s honor. That meant Buster had to do something. So when the second round ended, Buster sat down on his little stool and whispered to Chick, “This is it. I’m gunna knock him out. You just watch me.” Chick told us Buster didn’t even sound excited, just said it like you’d say I’m going to go get a glass of beer and a cigarette. He meant it, though. When Buster came out for the third round, he was a fighter.
You couldn’t tell from looking at him. He was still crow-hopping in Toney’s tight shoes and looking dumb as a Bohunk. Then the Butte Bomber took a poke at him with his right, and Buster moved in and damn near killed him. Buster countered with his left, hit with his right, then his left, and went in for the finish. He slugged the Butte Bomber with the most powerful right anybody ever saw in Columbia Gardens. The Bomber was out for five minutes. When the referee held up Buster’s hand and named him the winner, we leaped up on our chairs, yelling and
Chick acted like his trainer and got the water bucket and the towel and the mouth sponge, though he didn’t know any more what to do with them than the rest of us. Buster was the only one who knew fighting, and that was only because he helped Toney train and used to hang around the Centerville Gym.
I never knew the real name of the man he fought. He was called the Butte Bomber. Buster said he was just some bum, but he looked dangerous to us. He was bigger than Buster, who was no peaweight himself, and he had a broken nose and Happy ears like cartoons you see of prize-fighters. He climbed through the ropes and sneered at Buster, then said so everybody could hear, “Where do they get these kids?”
Like I said, Buster never got flustered, even in his very first fight. He stood there, quiet, just like a gentleman, while Chick laced up his gloves.
May Anna was cool, too, though me and Whippy Bird were sweating buckets. She just smiled sweetly at Buster, kind of like a Madonna, with her hands folded in her lap, her head high. It was the first time I noticed May Anna had a neck like a goose. I think she’d already started practicing being an actress.
Pink sat down next to me. He was sweating, too, with little beads of perspiration standing out on his face. It was as hot there as it ever gets in Butte, but it wasn’t only the heat that got to Pink. He found out the Butte Bomber just about killed somebody in his last fight, and Pink being the damn fool he sometimes was, he told us all about it, so we were scared for Buster. Whippy Bird said if he told that to Buster, she personally would kill him. May Anna wasn’t frightened though. “Buster will take care of Mr. Butte Bomber,” she said.
We weren’t as sure as May Anna. Buster came out of his corner quiet, not looking scared, but not looking like he was out for a fight either. He never glanced at us, not once, but I was sure he knew right where May Anna was sitting. When the fight started, he danced around with the Bomber for a few minutes in those tight shoes. Meanwhile, we were hoping and praying Buster could just keep doing that for four rounds without getting killed.
After dancing for what seemed like an hour, the Butte Bomber lashed out at Buster. Buster dodged him, and they went back to sidestepping. It didn’t start as much of a fight, them just moving around, making little swipes and dodging each other. A couple of times, the Butte Bomber connected, and once he knocked Buster down for a count of two. We were worried when that happened, but Buster hopped right up. He told us later the only reason he fell was because of those tight shoes. It was a pretty boring start, the boys said, and they knew more about it than me and Whippy Bird. It was so boring, in fact, that when the second round ended, people booed.
I think that was what got Buster going. Up to that time, he was just trying to get along without being hurt. But the crowd booed Kid McKnight, and Buster was responsible for Kid McKnight’s honor. That meant Buster had to do something. So when the second round ended, Buster sat down on his little stool and whispered to Chick, “This is it. I’m gunna knock him out. You just watch me.” Chick told us Buster didn’t even sound excited, just said it like you’d say I’m going to go get a glass of beer and a cigarette. He meant it, though. When Buster came out for the third round, he was a fighter.
You couldn’t tell from looking at him. He was still crow-hopping in Toney’s tight shoes and looking dumb as a Bohunk. Then the Butte Bomber took a poke at him with his right, and Buster moved in and damn near killed him. Buster countered with his left, hit with his right, then his left, and went in for the finish. He slugged the Butte Bomber with the most powerful right anybody ever saw in Columbia Gardens. The Bomber was out for five minutes. When the referee held up Buster’s hand and named him the winner, we leaped up on our chairs, yelling and
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