Rock 'Em Gauntlet

I went in there that night looking for trouble. I sat alone at the bar and ordered a bowl of Skittles. Damn rainbow of goodness.

The guy behind the counter looked like he could handle himself in a fight. He had a certain menacing quality to him. The heavy brow, the bulging arms, the Carebears tattoo. He’d be as good a target as anyone in this dump.

“Hey! Barkeep…Rock Em!” I grunted. He stopped his work abruptly. The place fell silent. The whole bar was watching intently.

“You don’t want that.” he said without turning to face me. “You should leave.”

I downed a handful Skittles, spilling three onto the countertop; all yellow. “Just bring the ‘bots over here.”

He turned fast, walked to the old cabinet directly across from my stool, reached in, moving jars of Gummy Bears and Reeses Pieces, finding what he was looking for.

Then he slammed the thing on the table. That ring, spattered with the blood of champions and suckers alike. A red and a blue robot stood waiting.

“Sock Em.” he breathed.

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