Thursday, July 14, 2011

Diary Entry: 04 - Boxing

Dear Diary,

So, I finally arrived in New York. Brooklyn! Bigups! I started looking for a job right away but it was so hard finding one. I applied to be a chef in every Italian restaurant that was hiring. No luck. Apparently, they don’t want a plumber cooking their food. And I couldn’t get a job plumbing because my license had expired. Plus, I’m pretty sure all my paperwork I left back in Mushroom Kingdom. But as I was walking around town I noticed a flyer. There was some boxing league nearby that needed referees. It said limited experience was all they required, which was perfect because I used to ref the boxing matches between Luigi and the little Toad folk.

So, guess who became a ref in no time? I guess everyone who applied was hoping to get some sort of pay-check as payment but this league could only pay in coin. That was apparently some sort of turn off to most people, not sure why. Something to do with 401ks and savings accounts and a bunch of mumbo jumbo. If they put coin directly into your pocket, why wouldn’t you want it? Some guy was trying to talk me out of it, talking something about health benefits. I said, “Look Tony (I assumed that was his name), I run every day, eat pasta 4 or 5 meals a day and can jump higher than a kangaroo. You don’t call those health benefits?” Anyway, I got the job because after all that I was the only one still interested. Getting coins to watch to guys bash each other’s faces in? Pretty easy stuff.

But, I gotta tell you. I saw some interesting individuals boxing. One guy, who I apparently was just refereeing all of his games, was named Little Mac. He was the smallest boxer I’ve ever seen! And everyone he fought was way out of his weight class! The guy who was closest to him still probably had an entire foot of height on him and at least 50 pounds! But that didn’t stop this little guy. He was knocking those guys out left and right! He had this trainer, Doc. He was a black guy, but I could have sworn it was just Ted Danson in Blackface. That was what it looked like. I mean, why would he go by a fake name like Doc? Seems like a cover up. Whatever. That guy was an intense trainer. In between every fight on my lunch breaks I saw him riding his bicycle around the city while making Little Mac jog and keep up with him. Not only did he do that but he also made him wear a full pink sweatsuit. Yeah, in New York. If something’s going to make you run’s wearing a pink sweatsuit in broad daylight in 1980’s Italian New York.

So, this Little Mac had to fight this one guy, Glass Joe. Which sounds a lot like glass jaw. Which is what this guy had. Making that the single worst boxing name ever. It gives away your biggest weakness! Your name should sound cool and promote your greatest strength. But this guy didn’t really have any strengths. I guess in that case his name would have been, Takes Forever To Fall Joe. Seriously, watching this guy fall to the ground after an uppercut to the jaw was like watching a person run from an alligator. Zig zags all the way to the canvas! It was so weird! That guy sucked. He was out in 2 rounds, easy. So, then Little Mac has to fight this guy from Germany, who was racistly named Von Kaiser. Right, like we’re going to believe that’s his birth name. I’m sure he was forced to change it when he got into this boxing league along with Glass Joe. Seriously...the worst names! Entertaining, but come on! But this Von Kaiser guy obviously didn’t have a telling name. His tell was all in the moustache. And it was even more obvious. He was a definite head wiggler, trying to psyche out Little Mac, not letting him know each which way he was going. But every time before he threw a jab, his moustache wiggled!

Now, being a fellow moustache owner I have to say, wiggling the moustache can be a nervous habit. But once you’ve had the thing for awhile you can control it, wiggle it whenever you want and keep it still as well. This guy must not have had that stache that long because he could not control it at all! And then Little Mac caught on too. He saw the wiggling going down and took advantage. He beat that German up! Sent him and his maroon pants back to the kraut kart! At this point I realized I had seen all of Little Mac’s fights. So, this means he had only two wins, but was undefeated! And now he was up for the title bout. Already? That seems quick. He didn’t even earn his stripes, but whatever. The guy he’s up against has only one loss and something like 19 wins. His name, Piston Honda. Guess where he’s from. Yeah. Japan. come on guys, that’s not his name! I asked E, (you know, E. Honda) if there was any relation and he said there was. They were brothers. One went the route of boxing, one the route of street fighting. But what’s interesting that he told me over a bowl of Ramen, was that their names were Takumi and Kazuya Takahashi. They both wanted to keep their names but the leagues wouldn’t let them.. They forcefully gave them these racist names.

But they make good money, fighting big names like Mike Tyson and Blanca the electric beast monkey. E Honda and I watched his brother, Kazuya’s match. E told me of Piston’s tell. He wiggles hair on his face just before a jab as well. Is that some sort of theme I don’t know about? However, with Piston it’s not his moustache, because he doesn’t have one. He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. This was not as obvious but when E told me I think Doc heard him because in between rounds he whispered something to Little Mac. Then, as we say where I come from, the sausage hit the fan! Un pugno, due pugno, and Piston was on the ground! He never got up and the title was Mac’s! Can’t believe it, Sam from Cheers just gave him the one golden nugget he needed. All while disguised in Blackface. Still no one believed me about this except E. He said in order for someone to be a white man’s trainer in this racist league you have to be black. He said he wouldn’t be surprised if Mayday Malone went back in Blackface one more time for the coin. Anyway, the owners of this league loved me. They said ever since I started reffing the matches got more exciting and I was their lucky little wopper. I’m not totally sure what that meant but I don’t think I liked it. So, I took the coins I earned and quit. Mario ain’t no sellout! He’ll just do anything for work. So, now it’s time for me to find new work  in New York.

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