CNF-Character
Snob: Someone who believes that some people are inherently inferior to him or her for any one of a variety of reasons, including real or supposed intellect, wealth, education, ancestry, taste, beauty, nationality, et cetera.
“Oh come on, you’re not done yet are you? I haven’t even warmed up yet.” Eighteen year old Michael Giandalia goaded on to his fallen opponent. The crowd of teenagers all roughly the same age, hooted and laughed like the immature hooligans they were. The always seemed to love Michael’s ‘superior than you’ jokes. They were all in a poorly- lit basement under a bar, cold concrete floors and walls where padded with cardboard, the bitter stench of alcohol and sweat mixed together with the heat of a dozen bodies moving and bouncing in the confined space. It was a hellish kind of place but to Michael it was a dream come true.
Two months back Michael watched a film called “Fight Club” a really disturbing movie but what captured Michael’s attention was the actual fight club. Michael’s favorite activity was to fight but there weren’t too many options to partake in that activity and after his parents bailed him out him out of jail for starting street-fights he thought he had to find a new hobby. But after watching “Fight Club” an idea took hold. Michael started to gather fellows that loved to fight as well, most came from a dockyard near Michael’s house that were looking for the next thrill besides getting high or drunk. They weren’t the smartest lot but they didn’t need to be, Michael needed punching bags not book bags. Next he asked to use the basement under the bar his father owned for their base of operations. His father accepted, “At least he won’t start any more street-fights and be sent to jail” he reasoned. Just like that Michael Giandalia had started his own fight club.
“Now all I need is to find a guy named Bob with bitch-tits and I’ll become a real-life Tyler Durden” Michael absent mindedly thought before running a knee into the ribs of his opponent, Jeff or Jack, Michael thought his name was. Jeff/Jack grunted out between a split lips and was on his back clenching his bruised ribs. It wasn’t a contest from the start, Michael was the best fighter in the club and Jeff/Jack was a newbie dope-fiend that one of the guys recruited just yesterday. It didn’t really matter to Michael who he was fighting; destroying a softie was as funny as fighting challenging opponent. But this was the best part of any fight; when his opponent was down and Michael started to cut loose.
“You really are pathetic you know, nothing more than dirt between my toes.” Michael always insulted his opponents after they went down. Verbal abuse was as enjoyable as physical and Michael loved to brag on how great he was. “Pitiful clowns like you shouldn’t be able to even look at me.” It was a wonder why anyone came back to Michael’s fight club at all; he spared no one in letting them know how insignificant they were to him yet they kept coming back. Maybe they just really loved fighting or just to have the chance to deal damage to their tormentor. “Or maybe I am a real-life Tyler Durden” Michael thought while wiping the blood off his knuckles and watching the next two people fight, not quite sure if that idea excited him or terrified him.
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