The One-Time Professional

The One-Time Professional

A Story by NewWriterOldWorld
"

You have super-human beginner's luck, the first time you try something you're the best at it. But only the first time. You've never been in a fight.

"

I am not consistent but man, am I something special on the first go around. It all started when I was just a young child. My parents quickly realized the roller coaster ride of seamless perfection I would tease them with. Anything I would try, regardless of difficulty, I would do the said activity at a mind blowing level. When I read my first word, I quickly begged for the largest book in the library and devoured it in under five minutes. They tried me again with a similar book and I couldn't get past the first three words. I am, what you may like to call, a one hitter quitter. I blow your mind then I let you down from then on out. It's fun... kinda.


With that being said, as I grew up, I started to hone my abilities for times that would really make an impact. My knack for turning any obstacle into a facile execution would benefit me greatly as an adult. If I needed a new career, I just go into the interview and destroy any doubt of me being the finest candidate for the job. I have tested my super-human luck on just about everything but I have always been weary of using it in any physical altercation. That was until some jack off kicked my dog at the local park. S**t got real fast.


"Hey, what in the living hell are you doing?", I scream across the park.


A middle aged man wearing a fedora is yelling at my dog for no apparent reason. We were playing fetch with the tennis ball like we always do, only to have this prick intervene when I threw the ball too close to him.


"Your damn dog was running at me. Why don't you teach it some manners and keep it away from strangers or else something MAY just happen to him", he yells back, aggressively throwing his hands up. Apparently, he is not worried about making a scene. I jog to get near him.


"Is that a threat or are you just talking out of your a*s?", I ask him.


"I would say it's a threat, you numb nuts."


I clinch my fist, the blood in my knuckles dissipate as they turn white. I feel my face get hot. The Irish blood runneth over!


"You are lucky we are in a public park. I would love to drop you in front of everyone.", I say to him, gritting my teeth as I attempt to control my rage.


My dog was still running around us, begging me to throw the ball.


"Hey, how about this. How about I drop your dog?", he says back with a mischievous grin.


He runs over to my dog, my little buddy wags his tail energetically, thinking he just found a new playmate. As he approaches him, I start to realize what he is about to do. Before I can react, he kicks my dog right in the ribs. The whimper that leaves his body causes my adrenaline to spike.


Without saying a word, I dig my back foot into the ground and explode into a dead sprint toward the man. My body is moving faster than it ever has and I can feel each and every muscle contract with an overwhelming power, their combined energy ready to explode on anyone who gets in my way. Unfortunately for the man in the fedora, it is him and him only.


I leap feet first, for what seems like nearly ten feet, my body parallel to the grass below. Holy s**t, am I going to drop kick him?, I think to myself while floating through the air. Before I know it, both soles of my Nikes have found a landing spot right dab in the middle of his face. His body jerks back violently, while mine finds balance and proceeds to use his face as a landing pad. I ride his face with my feet all the way to the ground, his head descends down rapidly.


THUD


I implant his head a few inches into the thick sod below.


I jump again.


There is another two inches.


I look down at him to check the damage. His nose is almost inverted and I think I may have cracked his skull.


The feeling that is all too familiar has faded. I have officially used my super-human luck in a physical altercation and damn, does it feel good.


I spit on his face before I throw the tennis ball the opposite direction for my dog to go chase.


It's bad a*s being a bad a*s.

© 2017 NewWriterOldWorld


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Added on June 13, 2017
Last Updated on June 13, 2017