Robert Ervin Howard

The Slugger's Game Robert Ervin Howard

I dunno when anybody ever dared slap me. For a second everything floated in a crimson haze. I dunno what kind of a lick I handed that Limey ape. I don't even remember hitting him. But I must of, because when I could see again, there he was on the floor, with his jaw split open from the corner of his mouth to the rim of his chin, and his head gashed where it hit the door jamb. The handler was trying to hide under a bench, and somebody else was hollering like he had a knife stuck in him. It was the promoter of the joint, and he was jumping up and down like a cat on a red hot hatch."What 'ave you done?" he squalled. "Oh, blimey, what 'ave you done? A packed 'ouse 'owlin' for h'action, and one of theprincipals wyting in the bleedin' ring and 'ere you've lyed out the other! Oh, my 'at! What a bloody go!""You mean this here scut was goin' to fight in the main event?" I asked stupidly, because my head was still going around."What else?" he howled. "Ow, murder! What am I to do?"