He thought it was just me bragging. He was a champion wrestler. Strong, young, very handsome. Undefeated, and some said, undefeatable. Well, here I was, not quite as big or talented as he was, but very boastful. People thought I was all talk, when I told him that I would fight him to the death for his championship.
So, he agreed to a match. He looked on me with a grin, almost taking humor in my challenge for the title. The bell rang and there we were, our hot, sweaty bodies rubbing, pressing and grappling each other. Before too long, he had me pinned down with his warm body snuggly restraining mine. I could feel his moist breath panting across me as the match was called.
When he let go of me, he stood, arms raised in victory. I crawled over to my towel, just outside the ring. I wiped the sweat from my face. He approached with his hand outstretched in a gesture of sportsmanship. I pulled the blade I had hidden under my towel and rammed it into his vulnerable gut. He let out a gasp as his eyes widened in shock.
I stood up and wrapped one arm around his shoulder. "Told you, I'd fight you to the death.... you lose." With that, I ripped out the blade and rammed it into his upper gut and under his ribcage, piercing his heart. His body dropped limply to the floor. I placed my foot on his chest.
Whose the champion, now, bitch?
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