Fight Club
What’s the first rule of fight club? We don’t talk about fight club.
I actually belong to a fight club. It’s based in Bangkok and meets every Sunday night. The matches last anywhere from 15 minutes to 45 minutes. The winner of each fight gets 100 Baht ($2.50) but the loser gets flushed down the toilet. That’s right, it’s a fish fight club.
I joined this fight club because I was alone, looking for direction in my life, trying to fill that bottomless pit of despair and self-loathing brought on by years of substance abuse, and because the fights take place in my friend’s bar. So it was a great excuse to go drinking on a Sunday night.
The first time at fight club I didn’t have a fish. Who does? Lucky for me, my bar-owner friend had some fish for sale. She also had young women, but they were only for rent. Anyway, I picked out the biggest and ugliest fish of the bunch figuring he would be the best fighter. I named him Big George after George Foreman, of course, who, by the way, is also from Marshall, TX.
I actually ran into George Foreman at McDonald’s one day (before he could make his own burgers with his grill). He is the biggest guy I have ever seen in my life. Boxing him would be like boxing a tree with a mule tied to it.
So back to fight club. You get your fish, make bets with your buddy, drop your fish in “the arena” (a.k.a. bowl), and then watch the two fish kick the shit out of each other. It’s a lot more entertaining than you would think. Way better than a bug zapper.
At first the fish prance around (yes, fish can actually prance) slapping each other in the face with their tails. Then one of them has enough of that shit and will bite some of that tail off. Then, IT IS ON, baby! The fish start biting pieces off each other - like Mike Tyson. Later on there are little bits of fish tails and fins all over the bottom of the bowl. At some point the fish go Brokeback Mountain on us and lock lips. But rather than expressing their homo love, they are actually trying to drown each other. Neither fish can breathe and they float to the bottom. First fish to let go and come up to breathe is the loser. Unless the other one never comes up. In that case the owner / trainer takes a trip to the men’s room…
FYI, Big George is alive and well. I’m teaching him Kung Fu.
I actually belong to a fight club. It’s based in Bangkok and meets every Sunday night. The matches last anywhere from 15 minutes to 45 minutes. The winner of each fight gets 100 Baht ($2.50) but the loser gets flushed down the toilet. That’s right, it’s a fish fight club.
I joined this fight club because I was alone, looking for direction in my life, trying to fill that bottomless pit of despair and self-loathing brought on by years of substance abuse, and because the fights take place in my friend’s bar. So it was a great excuse to go drinking on a Sunday night.
The first time at fight club I didn’t have a fish. Who does? Lucky for me, my bar-owner friend had some fish for sale. She also had young women, but they were only for rent. Anyway, I picked out the biggest and ugliest fish of the bunch figuring he would be the best fighter. I named him Big George after George Foreman, of course, who, by the way, is also from Marshall, TX.
I actually ran into George Foreman at McDonald’s one day (before he could make his own burgers with his grill). He is the biggest guy I have ever seen in my life. Boxing him would be like boxing a tree with a mule tied to it.
So back to fight club. You get your fish, make bets with your buddy, drop your fish in “the arena” (a.k.a. bowl), and then watch the two fish kick the shit out of each other. It’s a lot more entertaining than you would think. Way better than a bug zapper.
At first the fish prance around (yes, fish can actually prance) slapping each other in the face with their tails. Then one of them has enough of that shit and will bite some of that tail off. Then, IT IS ON, baby! The fish start biting pieces off each other - like Mike Tyson. Later on there are little bits of fish tails and fins all over the bottom of the bowl. At some point the fish go Brokeback Mountain on us and lock lips. But rather than expressing their homo love, they are actually trying to drown each other. Neither fish can breathe and they float to the bottom. First fish to let go and come up to breathe is the loser. Unless the other one never comes up. In that case the owner / trainer takes a trip to the men’s room…
FYI, Big George is alive and well. I’m teaching him Kung Fu.
posted by Luther Ray @ 11:30 AM
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