He raised his fist first, drawing it back and intending to hit me before he had even gotten close enough. I always let them throw the first punch, that way I can always claim self defense.
He put his full body weight behind his swing when he finally released his tensed muscle. The punch wasn't bad, it had great follow through and would have hurt even me if he had connected with me. But I ducked to the side with more than enough time to spare. Instead, his fist landed with a loud crunching sound against the wall. Oh, were those bones cracking and breaking in his hand. Good!
Before you say anything about me ducking, I said I always let them throw the first punch, not that I let them hit me. I never intended to let them lay their hands on me if I could help it. Sometimes they get in a lucky shot or two, but that's usually it.
Tonight, however, with how drunk this crazy son of a bitch was, I had a feeling it would not end as quickly as I was hoping.
