The bald one swung at me, connecting on the side of my left eye. The other one hit Josh. I remember at least one of them adjusting fingerless gloves, like bicycle or weighlifting gloves. I remember thinking they’d done this before, or at least had thought this out. Josh moved one way, I ran the other, between cars. The bald one chased me, tripped me expertly by kicking my trailing foot so it would clip my other ankle on the next step. He fell on me, his right fist striking repeatedly on the back of my head, his left struggling to detach itself from my grip. Stunned at first, I know I started shouting “F— you! Stop! F— you!” within a couple of punches as I contained his arm with one hand and tried to protect the back of my head with the other.
So yo, attackers: If I’m supposed to be nicer to somebody in the future, drop me an e-mail. Otherwise you’re just a coward. Black eyes fade, but cowardice and thuggery are permanent character flaws.