I listen to the announcer, loving the cadence of his voice, as he announces the first fighter.
"Johnny 'The Bone Crusher' Rodriiii-gueeeeez!"
The crowd erupts and so does the music.
It's all drums and cheers and riffs and chaos—and then it's Jesse Kingston. He looks fierce up there with his aviators on, tight jeans, and black Metallica t-shirt. His voice is a growl and gravely. It's enough to get a girl to scream, and scream they do—even in their formal gowns.
Iknowwho you are
I know where you come from
I know where you've been
I'm gonna stop you from where you're goin'
I'm goingto break you
I'm going tocrushyou
I'm going to rape you
I'm going to annihilate you
You won't seeme comin'
I'm stalking my prey
You won't see me comin'
I'm the bone crusher, hey!
You thinkyou know me
You think I care
You think you're the shit
You think I’m fuckin' scared
Dream on, you won't rip me
Walk on, you don't grip me
Go on and think what you want
I'm comin' for you
I'm goingto break you
I'm going tocrushyou
I'm going to annihilate you
I'm going to conquer you
I'm!
Going!
