Fisticuffs

"Opinions founded on prejudice are always sustained with the greatest of violence." - Francis Jeffrey

Well, my dears, your lovable little Gattina has gotten herself into a more frightening adventure than usual.
-Gattina closes her eyes and massages her jacked up wrist while she tries to remember where it all bloody started.-
So you all pretty much know that I have an affinity for grotty pubs and rough people. I spent last weekend off my face on sniff and puff with someone I marginally knew before. We are purely drugmates and I did not realise he fancied me so much until... but I am getting ahead. At his, I happened upon a pair of serious looking handcuffs (this guy belongs to what is loosely referred to as 'The Jock Mafia') and started playing with them. Little kitten batting at twine, right? You can't put those on your wrist, he said. Sure I can, I said locking my right wrist into a cuff. There's no key you fool, he shouted while laughing and shaking his head. Bugger. I'll sort it later, I said and proceeded to get much more high.
The next morning, I woke up to see the damned thing on my wrist on my pillow and groaned. My flatmate called a cop for a key and said we could get it off hopefully at 19.00. Great. I went to Debs and spent a fun girly day with her and then went to the pub to meet my flatmate. Everyone thought it was funny, including me, until the key didn't work. What to do? Well, get pissed before going to the fire brigade and getting it cut off! My stalker was sitting with a mate and he shook his head in disappointment (he IS still trying to marry me and carry me off to Albania) while his mate started provoking me with dares to cuff him to me. One should not dare a girl like Gattina. I locked him to me and luckily with his left wrist so we could sit side by side and try to pick the locks. I only drink alcohol with my right hand so he was dragged along for every sip of my gin and tonic and had to follow me into the bathroom. He's terribly cute (you all realise I am speaking of my stalker's mate, right? Ok.) and chatted easily with the ladies as I bent his arm in with me to the WC. We were giving up on getting detached until the next day when my drugmate, Dyson, started getting jealous and humpy. Great. We decided to take directions to the nearest brigade and while talking with the barmaid, the door to the other side of the pub opened and Dyson charged through. He attacked my twin (we've decided to be twins since we were locked together... ) from the back. Dyson is a big man. A roofer with hands like hams but my twin is no stranger to violence. They crashed into a sofa with me dragging along watching my wrist sprain and then feeling a small bone break. You are hurting my arm! I shouted. Dyson took no notice but my twin did. He had been fighting Dyson off with one arm. We left as soon as possible and went to my twin's. He and my stalker talked in Albanian as we got the cuffs finally off. As soon as we were free, we went after them. Dyson had sent me several texts calling me a dirty gypsy prostitute and such and my arm was fucked so I am afraid my blood was up as well as my mates'. Yay, Europeans! We found Dyson, Debs, and her boyfriend (another mate of mine) at a taxi stand and I was relieved to see my boys pocket their knives before attacking. It was fast and horrible. The Jocks outweighed the Albanians by many stone but were beat in a moment. The saddest part is Debs shouting at me that it was all my fault. She still will not forgive me even though Dyson has apologised (I mean what kind of 'tough guy' attacks a man who is chained to a woman with his back turned?!) and the trouble seems over. No one is dead and no one is in jail. I still don't see why it started but I have a cracked wrist, a bruised rib, and some street cred (though who wants it?! I hate violence!), the Jocks have masks of bruises, and the Albanians are like biz as usual- you bring, you get. I wish I could say it stopped there but it didn't.
After we ran away from the cops (I scaled an 8 foot fence!), we went to my twin's to lay low. I was adrenalined from the fight and there was only one double bed soooo... We three, ummm, fooled around. My twin was totally cool but my stalker (there is a reason I call him stalker!) has flipped out. He feels I am his and so shared me once for his great love or summat but then demanded my twin to go away. As it happens, my twin has taken a liking to me and knows I am truly unclaimed by anyone so this started more problems. Ye gods! Dyson was texting threats to murder us all and went so far as to approach my twin's best mate in the middle of the road and wave a knife in his face (The guy had no idea about the fight so just said 'Fuck off, I am on the phone' and walked away. He is so fucking cool.) so we had an Albanian assembly to plan not to die. That was bloody intense and as I was the only one in communication with Dyson, I was unable to just be out of it. Things eventually started to look like they could get sorted so stalker and my twin didn't have to be at peace anymore. More violence broke out and I must say my twin is a seriously good fighter. Glad he seems to like being on my side!
I finally buggered off to silver fox's pied a terre where I could be in peace for a night. He will be here tonight and I can tell him the stories. Mostly. I met my twin today for a pint and we laughed alot about how all these men could fight over an unclaimed woman. I made him promise not to fight anyone today but I get a perverse smile knowing that he has, can, and would again fight for me and his own honour. Spending time with these kind of men is like cobra dancing. Thrilling and dangerous.
I am taking Graydog to dinner tomorrow night and I can't wait to be in his laid back presence. All this drama has made me hungry for an uncomplicated date!