Robinson staggered through the doorway of Starbucks with a crash, collided with a teenager listening to some ball-achingly hip art-rock band on his iPhone, and swung his gloved fist at thin air. Falling flat on his arse, he heard but did not process the gasps from the customers sat drinking their lattes.
'Are you alright, love?' asked a lady sat nearby, reluctant to touch the sweaty boxer before her.
Robinson stared as if she had two heads and got to his feet.
He lamped her with an uppercut. He'd won!
Robinson punched the air, bathing in the cheers.
John Judge about 4 years ago
It's so funny reading these and remembering the random way I'd come up with the precepts. Nice one!