"Duffy…Duffy…do you know where you are?" Smitty said.
"Shit, right on the chin. Did you see his head whip, around?
Shit," some other guy said.
I went to sit up and felt my head slosh around like a bowl filled with some sort of goo.
"No, no, no, don't try to sit up. Lie back down," Smitty said. They pushed me back down, but they did it gently and I didn't resist. I knew I was in a gym with painted red walls. I heard the sounds of the gym though they were off a bit and the place had a hush to it. Things were happening and I knew what was going on-sort of any way. I felt removed from it.
"I want to get to the hospital. Which one should I take him to?" Smitty asked, but he wasn't talking to me. He was talking about me.
I sat up straight fast and the blood rushed to my head with a gigantic throb. It wasn't painful in a sharp, burning pain. It was dull and livable.
"Whoa, don't get up," Smitty said.
I didn't like the sound of hospital. I got up from the sitting position to show everyone I was all right.
My legs buckled and I staggered into the ropes. I fell backward into them and went halfway through the bottom two. Smitty sprang up and hugged me awkwardly.
"Duff-shit. Somebody get me the stool." He sounded panicked. Smitty never sounded panicked.
My legs must've been on the same circuit as my mouth, because I kept trying to say something and my mouth wouldn't move. Things felt murky. Around the ring, guys starred at me. Out of the meshed conversations I heard something like; "Did you see that fuckin' hook?"
My answer would've been, "No."