Chapters (37)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- The Truth of Thom Jones
- Selected Stories
- The Pugilist at Rest
- The Black Lights
- I Want to Live!
- Silhouettes
- Mosquitoes
- A White Horse
- Cold Snap
- Superman, My Son
- Way Down Deep in the Jungle
- Pickpocket
- Pot Shack
- I Need a Man to Love Me
- Sonny Liston Wasa Friend of Mine
- The Roadrunner
- A Run Through the Jungle
- 40, Still at Home
- Tarantula
- Mouses
- Daddy’s Girl
- New Stories
- Night Train
- Volcanoes from Hell
- A Merry Little Christmas
- All Along the Watchtower
- Diary of My Health
- The Junkman of Chengdu
- Bomb Shelter Noel
- Acknowledgments
- Credits
- About the Author
- Also by Thom Jones
- Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
Kid Dynamite returned to his corner, where Lolo held out his mouthpiece. He set his teeth in it, clamping down hard as he slapped himself on the forehead a few times to make sure his headgear was tight. Then he turned and looked across the ring with a blank stare as he waited for the bell. As soon as it rang, Louie Reine came rushing across the ring to engage, and Kid Dynamite did the same. Just before contact Kid Dynamite spotted his grandmother, Mag, the Driver, Mikey, and Cancer Frank seated in the third row next to Melanie and Vic. The only time in his life that Kid Dynamite could remember Mag leaving the store for more than an hour was the day she had her teeth pulled. The store was open seven days a week including Christmas Day. It had always been that way. He was so shocked to see her out of context he had to look twice to make sure he was seeing things right.
Reine gave him a Walcott stepover to switch angles, and threw a left hook that just barely grazed the top of his head. Kid Dynamite heard it whistle as he ducked under it and watched Reine’s elbow sail by. He came up off balance and started a left hook of his own, aimed over Reine’s right hand. Reine’s punch landed first, catching Kid Dynamite high on the forehead. Because his feet were too close together, and because Reine was so strong, the force of the punch was sufficient to send Kid Dynamite reeling backward into the ropes. Reine then tagged him with a double jab and a straight right hand to the side of the jaw, and suddenly Kid Dynamite was sprawled facedown on the canvas. It seemed that the floor had flown up and hit him in the mouth. His whole body bounced hard. The canvas was as rough as concrete, and his face, elbows, and knees stung with abrasions. He had gone down like he was poleaxed, and the crowd went into a frenzy. Knockdowns, at least spectacular ones, were relatively rare in amateur boxing. The boxing reporter from the Sun-Times, the prophet who picked Reine to go to the Nationals, was on his feet scribbling in his notebook. It was the first thing Kid Dynamite saw as he raised his head.