Felix came into Coach’s bar… <br />Barely 5’6” maybe mid-sixties <br />Scrawny and mousy… <br />with his beer <br />he asked Coach for cheese <br />and crackers… <br />“If you could please, sir… <br />I get dizzy drinking beer <br />unless I have some cheese <br />and crackers…” <br />Coach stuck out his hand… <br />“They call me Coach.” <br />“They call me Felix.” <br />“Well Felix, the kitchen’s closed.” <br />“I know sir, but everyone else <br />gets me cheese and crackers, <br />I really would appreciate it… <br />Just a plate with maybe four <br />slices of cheese.” <br />Coach grudgingly did so, <br />then went to grumble <br />with the L.A. police sergeant <br />at the end of the bar… <br />“That mousy guy irritates me… <br />thinking maybe I’ll just throw <br />him out.” <br />Sarge took a pull on his beer… <br />“It would be the last mistake <br />you’ll ever make…that’s our <br />martial arts trainer…he’s got <br />more black belts than a <br />men’s clothing store.” <br />Coach had to know… <br />“Felix, I hear you’re good <br />at martial arts…” <br />“Would you like a demonstation <br />Coach? ” <br />“Sure…” <br />“Stand very still, I’m going <br />to hit you with 17 blows <br />in three seconds…” <br />The hands were a blur… <br />Felix counting almost as fast… <br />Chops inches away from <br />the neck, head, <br />ribs, stomach… <br />Felix “Sixteen! ” <br />Coach “Thought you said 17.” <br />Felix.“Oh yeah, forgot” <br />Felix kneed Coach in the groin.<br /><br />Coach Roth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paradise-13-felix/
