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123022, Москва, Звенигородское ш., 4,
торговый центр "Электроника на Пресне", офис В-46
тел/факс +7(495) 788-4130, 740-2920
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I even tried some fancy footwork.
I jabbed a bit, played around and then I moved in and started punching.
He took it pretty good and for a while I thought I couldn't finish it but all of a sudden he gave me this strange look which said, hey, look, maybe we ought to be buddies and go have a couple of beers together.
Then he dropped.
His friends moved in and picked him up, they held him up, talked to him, "Hey, Jim, you O.K.?" "What'd the son-of-a-bitch do to you, Jim? We'll clean his drawers, Jim.
Just give us the word." "Take me home," Jim said.
I watched them go down the stairway, all of them trying to hold him up, one guy carrying his shirt and undershirt . . . I went downstairs to get my cart.
Justin Phillips was waiting.
I didn't think you'd be back," he smiled disdainfully.
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