my hand shakes as i hold the phone to my ear

"damn, what the hell."

the phone rings.

i wonder if it's from punching the tree.

no, all it left was a quick cut. already scabbed over by the time i got home.

maybe it's because my stomach feels like it's being held by a wood clamp.

grinding clock-wise. it feels like it's twisted three times over. nah.

it's only causing the pizza to inch up my throat. it's pretty close to dancing with my tonsils.

it won't be a pretty dance.

maybe it's this damn head cold. i swear sweat and wind chill do not mix well.

too efficient. like turning on the AC during a winter storm. eff my life is all that throbs.

it does feel like an eight hundred pound gorilla is gripping the back of my neck and my forehead.

son of a bitch won't let go.

at the end of it. i think what really makes my hand shake, and my nerves all wound up

are these mother bleeping thoughts swirling in my head. i swear, it has to be the fifth five-minute round. we're closing in on the last minute. waiting for the paddle-clap at ten seconds.

feel about ready to submit to these bastard thoughts. or maybe i'll come through

like anderson silva when he fought chael sonnen. just give me a few more seconds.

yeah. that's it. i'm gonna knock his ass out.

the phone stops ringing.

"hey, ted! you called?"