Serge's Soapbox

Pain shot through Serge's shoulder as a large man punched him right at the joint. A crowd had gathered from nearby tables and people passing by from outside. Whispers and shouts. Provocation and desire for conflict. Serge's brain reeled as it flipped a switch to being combat ready. It was just a bar fight, but mob mentality builds fast and people do crazy things when there was a crowd around.

Sizing up his opponent, he realized the man's attire was hardly an ideal situation for the guy. Wearing skinny jeans and a tacky button down shirt, he looked like he was trying too hard to be every girl's best friend and maybe hopefully eventually with benefits. That kinda guy. His slicked up blonde hair certainly didn't give him any extra points in Serge's book.

“If you don't like Johnson that's one thing, but what you're sayin' is just downright offensive!”

Serge noted the tenseness of the man's body. He was too riled up. Adrenaline was controlling his every move. Unfortunately for him, that gave Serge the confidence he needed to ensure the man didn't get any farther with this fight of his.

“Be offended all you want. Just remember, that just means you care about what I think.”

The bar manager caught his eye from behind the marbled bar top. Serge could make out him trying to mouth something to him among the few people shouting at Serge now too. Get this jackass out of here. Booze breath of dozens of patrons filled the air, all the while servers are doing their best to keep people in their seats. The guy just laughed and wound up another punch.

Serge knew what was coming. Dodging the man's right hook, Serge grabbed his leg and yanked it out from underneath him. A loud and somewhat satisfying thud resounded as he hit the ground on his back. Wasting no time, Serge stepped over the man and laid his foot firmly on his chest.

“Let's make one thing clear. We're civilized men, are we not? Don't civilized men choose words over blows? Don't worry though, you're not the only one at fault here.”

Raising his voice, Serge looked around the room and applied extra pressure to the man's chest to keep him down.

“Most of you don't even know what the fight is about. Yet something inside you just makes you wanna see a couple guys throw down huh? Don't get enough of that on fight night?”

The room grew silent, barring the man on the floor having minor difficulties breathing.

“What? Now you won't stand up for how you feel? What happened to 'Be who you are!'? You wanna know why nothing's getting done? It's because people are who they are. The world reflects that. So if the world seems like a giant crap heap, who do you blame? The government? No. Culture has far more to do with it.”