Stories with Cheddar 9 - SwallowThis - Club Fist

Ambient soundscape with spoken word narration, Box drum is the only instrument, narrated story

[Intro]

[Spoken Word]
[male voice]
I can never, on a serious note, from the time I was like four, my dad was a cop and he was really into martial arts and like bodybuilding. So he was into martial arts hardcore and made sure that I knew how to fight. Always gave me weapons. Like, I was knocking myself out with nunchucks by the time I was six. You know what I mean? Like, crazy shit. Shooting guns in the house. [low synth pad enters] My dad was nuts, but he was always about like defense and murder. I don't know. So I got into fighting. Put me in martial arts, Taekwondo, Wing Chun, Jiu-Jitsu. And I never got to actually like pursue it because I started a family really early. So once Gage moved out, I already, I mean, I had trained him obviously. But once he moved out, I grew up, moved out, I got into like a backwoods fight club. Like literally get a text message, show up at the barn, never know who you're fighting. Man. Concrete floor with rubber mats, like horse mats. Like real redneck shit. It was fucking awesome. I started destroying my body doing it, but I'd win. I'd win every time, I just never stop. I beat the shit out of this one guy, and he was a color fellow I never saw before, tall skinny guy. He had like at least two-inch reach on me. I just took him down in Jiu-Jitsu'd his ass and he had no idea what was happening. Like, I think he was thinking it was a boxing match and it was not. No, you know what I mean? So I broke my fucking hand. He is about dead. And I say FBI were just telling jokes between friends. He was all fucked up, so I just stopped. Like, there's no one there to call it. It's basically like at your own discretion, which was wild and kind of scary. Uh, next weekend, it was the weekend after that. My hand's broken still. I had to, I had to like literally put my hand back into place myself. I just put, I just crushed my bones. Wifey calls it my club fist. And it was like, it's all, yeah. Picture that. So I go back the next weekend with a broken hand and I'm like, alright, I can't, like, I'm making money, right? Making money. I'm like, there's no way I can throw this hand. So I was just like, okay, I wrap my hand up, put it in the glove and they're like, what the fuck, you're wearing a glove? I was like, yeah, my hand's broke. And they're like, oh shit, okay, this is going to be easy. I was like, no sir, you don't even know. Dude was shorter than me, I had more reach on him, didn't even need it. I just delivered a flying elbow, first move, just sprinted at him, flying elbow to the fucking temple. He went down, done. I was like, alright, give me my money, I'm going home. Didn't even have to get bloody that time. That first guy though, oh man, did I tear him up. Oh shit, we don't talk about this though.

2770/7500

[Intro] [Spoken Word] [male voice] I can never, on a serious note, from the time I was like four, my dad was a cop and he was really into martial arts and like bodybuilding. So he was into martial arts hardcore and made sure that I knew how to fight. Always gave me weapons. Like, I was knocking myself out with nunchucks by the time I was six. You know what I mean? Like, crazy shit. Shooting guns in the house. [low synth pad enters] My dad was nuts, but he was always about like defense and murder. I don't know. So I got into fighting. Put me in martial arts, Taekwondo, Wing Chun, Jiu-Jitsu. And I never got to actually like pursue it because I started a family really early. So once Gage moved out, I already, I mean, I had trained him obviously. But once he moved out, I grew up, moved out, I got into like a backwoods fight club. Like literally get a text message, show up at the barn, never know who you're fighting. Man. Concrete floor with rubber mats, like horse mats. Like real redneck shit. It was fucking awesome. I started destroying my body doing it, but I'd win. I'd win every time, I just never stop. I beat the shit out of this one guy, and he was a color fellow I never saw before, tall skinny guy. He had like at least two-inch reach on me. I just took him down in Jiu-Jitsu'd his ass and he had no idea what was happening. Like, I think he was thinking it was a boxing match and it was not. No, you know what I mean? So I broke my fucking hand. He is about dead. And I say FBI were just telling jokes between friends. He was all fucked up, so I just stopped. Like, there's no one there to call it. It's basically like at your own discretion, which was wild and kind of scary. Uh, next weekend, it was the weekend after that. My hand's broken still. I had to, I had to like literally put my hand back into place myself. I just put, I just crushed my bones. Wifey calls it my club fist. And it was like, it's all, yeah. Picture that. So I go back the next weekend with a broken hand and I'm like, alright, I can't, like, I'm making money, right? Making money. I'm like, there's no way I can throw this hand. So I was just like, okay, I wrap my hand up, put it in the glove and they're like, what the fuck, you're wearing a glove? I was like, yeah, my hand's broke. And they're like, oh shit, okay, this is going to be easy. I was like, no sir, you don't even know. Dude was shorter than me, I had more reach on him, didn't even need it. I just delivered a flying elbow, first move, just sprinted at him, flying elbow to the fucking temple. He went down, done. I was like, alright, give me my money, I'm going home. Didn't even have to get bloody that time. That first guy though, oh man, did I tear him up. Oh shit, we don't talk about this though.

0/500