This blue belt was starting to piss me off!
He kept punching my wrist grip and arm. Instead of loosening my grip on his free hand before a proper break, during the stand up phase, his attempt at pain compliance just caused me to dig in my heels and want to smash him harder.
This guy was a fucking dick.
There are two rules on the mats. First, the customer is always right. Second, it is like Christmas, and way better to give than to receive.
He kept punching my right hand on his cross collar and ignored my sleeve control. Sure the collar was more dangerous, but if you only have one hand for the break you are not going to win.
Thus his annoying hand-punching.
Staying straight up and strongly based, I set my feet and yanked both his right collar and sleeve at the same time unbalancing him.
He just stumbled forward, staying bent at the waist, instead of recovering his posture.
The customer is always right.
I changed my plan of attack, planted my right foot on his left ankle, and sat back. I fell to my right butt while keeping my back straight up and off the mat, collar dragging him so hard into the mat that he went face first and bounced his head coming up angry.
As he planted both hands shoving back up off the mat, I hooked my right blocking leg inside his, switched my hips, and kept my right fist posted on his collar. While shoving his shoulders down, I swung up and around with my left hand to take three points of control on the back.
With practiced ease, I opened his collar under his chin, and switched my right hand grip. I yanked hard and caused a spasmodic reaction. I locked the choking hand over the shoulder from the collar, and my left hand slipped under the arm gripping my choking hand's fist.
The newly arrived blue belt clawed at my left hand now.
I pulled hard and cinched both elbows in tight, so he could not pull me in for space.
He thrashed and fell to the side trying to get away from the choking hand, but tossed us both over so my second hook finished the back-take position for a full four points to me.
Of course, he did not want to concede, so he scratched and clawed at my hands. Using his amateur hour fail-technique against him I cinced the collar grip choking hand tighter.
With a sigh, I wondered if the new guy with no courtesy or understanding of the match rules was really this dense, or if he bought the belt he was wearing online before showing up.
I looked at my senior who was running the class, and got an indifferent shrug in return.
So I shrugged back at him, pulled and fed the collar hard a final time, then cinched it tight in my right fist, just under the jaw.
The fucker elbowed me!
Twice!
My fellow black belts started to circle. My future victim was still unaware as he thrashed stupidly. The vice like choke closing the air and blood off from passing his neck to his head and lungs.
I released my left hand and dropped his collar under my choking hand, slapping my grip firmly into his left knee instead.
With the fold in my opponent's gi pants in my grip, I hopped my hip, refining the angle. Then I leaned back, fist around and under his neck locked firmly in his collar, his back between my legs, and pulled his pants. His whole body contorted against the opposing grips and my blocking legs, as I twisted him hard into the bow and arrow choke.
The flailing and clawing continued, as did the useless kicking and rolling. That frantic untrained shit just made the choke tighter, as his face turned a molted red, and finally into purple.
Without clearing the grip on his leg, then the figure-four body-lock, any squirming on the receiving end would just tighten the choke, pinching off the blood to his brain.
Finally, the tap came as he was fading out.
My right hand popped open, instantly releasing the choke.
His head and upper body bounced listlessly and unresponsive off the mat.
I released the body triangle and slipped out to a ready position on my knees behind sleeping beauty.
Like a squirrel waking from the crash after falling from a tree, he came to his knees sputtering and gasping, ready to fight.
Hate in his eyes.
Kneeling and ready to continue, I silently bowed fractionally ending the match, never taking my eyes off the toxic new guy, and pointed the visitor to the back of the line. From there he could retire and consider his life choices while waiting for his next turn.
That was when he noticed the two other black belts on his shoulders escorting him off the mat for a chat.
While my prior victim was being escorted off the mat, by my peers, our head instructor passed behind and notified me, "Alex, you've got red on you."
Well, that was not fun.
My gi was white, and my rashguard black.
That meant blood.
I looked around, starting left, and worked my way quickly across my body and uniform before I realized Mister Bad-Attitude clawed open the back of my right hand. His unkept fingernails apparently finding purchase there at some point before I finished him.
Frustrated, I looked around and did not see any blood on the mats that would warrant a training halt. So, pointing at the next two students in line I ordered, "Next two, this spot." I stood and kept the welling running blood from dripping everywhere.
I slipped into my training sandals and bowed off the mat, careful not to fling blood everywhere.
I had to splay my fingers to keep the blood pooled in the back of my hand instead of running all over the floor.
At the front desk, I asked for a paper towel and some tape.
They gave me some shit about rubbing alcohol.
The sudden, "Boo!" behind me caused me to jump with a start!
My expletive and flailing spilled blood everywhere, on the glass front counter. Recognizing the voice instantly, I exclaimed, "Fuck, girl! Don't do that!"
That just made Celia giggle as she came around realizing the mess she made. Suddenly the caring woman was everywhere, babbling, "Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize he cut you up!" Her little hand took mine and immediately snatched the offered paper towel and started whipping and dabbing the blood from first my hand for me, and then the counter.
