A Confrontation With Bob Saget

Bob Saget finally stands before me. The man who has tormented every aspect of my life for the last 6 years. My days and nights. Dreams and realities. Loves and losses. No longer am I questioning his morbid fascination with my misery. Now I seek revenge. Revenge for the time when I first met him after having moved to Hollywood, entertaining thoughts of becoming an actor. At a casting call he spat on me and told me that fat asses don't make it in this town.

We circle each other. Each staring the other down. Saget tears off his shirt and bellows a deep, baritone laugh. I long for blood--blood for the time I saw him at Mr. Chow's. I sat with my new girlfriend enjoying the Peking duck when Saget swaggers up to our table, slams my face into a plate of squab and tells my girlfriend to go out to his car and take her clothes off and he'd meet her when he finishes his chicken satay. She enthusiastically complied.

I roll up my sleeves and raise my tightly clenched fists. I envision hurling them into his high cheek bones and piercing blue eyes. I want to smash that same blue eye that winked at me when, returning home to Tampa, I walked in on him fucking my mother in my childhood bedroom.

I take a step towards my opponent as he taunts me with his eyes and smile. He spits into his palms and rubs them together. I stress to myself to be patient and strike at the right moment, but I can hardly contain myself when I think of when shoved me, wet and naked, out of the Gold's Gym showers and into the street before locking me out.

I blink and he's on me, his fists landing square on each target he aims for: my nose, sternum, gut, and ear. I try in vain to block even just one of his mighty blows, but I am taken aback by his raw power. I stumble back and fall. Saget turns away and dances for the crowd that is growing around us.

I manage to raise myself upright and shake my head in a futile attempt to regain my senses. Saget glances over his shoulder at me and laughs. I charge at him but just as I pull back my arm he uncorks his fist and connects with my temple. My left eye goes dark and I feel that it has been knocked from its protective socket. I attempt to form words, "Grahblaah ummpa..." While I fumble with my damaged eye, Saget repeatedly jabs at my ribs with the speed of a hummingbird's wings, each collision setting off a new bout of internal bleeding.

I manage to turn away and with my good eye spot a broken beer bottle on the ground in front of me. I pounce on it and spin back to face Saget but he's on me, sinking his teeth into my ear while holding my arms at bay. He yanks his head back and with it comes most of my right ear.

As I scream in pain, he chews the cartilage and swallows. I feel my life's energy draining away and know I must act quickly. I fling the bottle at his face and he knocks it away, but as he does I land a punch to his chin and another to stomach. Flush with confidence I bend down, readying myself to deliver a smashing uppercut, but before I can release Saget brings his muscled knee into my testicles with such force I instantaneously vomit on my boots.

I collapse onto the cement into a warm pool of my own blood, teeth, and vomit. The crowd cheers. Through a haze of tears and sweat I can see Saget kissing my ex-girlfriend while my mother wipes his brow with my scarf. Before drifting off to unconsciousness, I hear him exclaim, "An ambulance? He'll be fine, he's got that fat ass to comfort him. Hahahaha."

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