The Day I Fought Twenty Men

Look, I’m not saying I’m a superhero, but yesterday I fought twenty men.

Yes, twenty. Okay, maybe eighteen… fine,

sixteen if you remove the ones who were just watching. It started when one guy bumped into

me at the bus stop and I said, “Excuse you,” with my chest. He turned around

with eighteen of his cousins, all built like they were raised on raw yam and push-ups.

They circled me, and I thought, “Wow… so this is how my documentary on Netflix begins.”

The first guy swung, and I dodged—not because I’m fast, but because my shoelace betrayed me and

I almost fell. But apparently that looked intentional, because everyone gasped.