Charmaine Parcero looked up at her opponent, known as Mister Kurot, with a sense of ambivalence. On the one hand, she was scared. He was older than her by at least twenty-five years, stood over her by at least one foot and an inch and outweighed her by at least a couple hundred pounds. He looked intimidating in his black bodysuit, matching boots and red devil mask while she felt humble in her purple and pink leotard.
On the other hand, she could barely suppress a chuckle. Why would he, a white man, use a word in her language as his own ring name?
Charmaine took a deep breath and looked down at her bare feet. No turning back now, she thought, I have a job to do.
Charmaine ran towards the ropes, bounced off, and headed towards Mister Kurot. She performed a couple of handsprings to give herself momentum and lunged towards him, only for her to bounce off and fly onto the mat. She quickly got to her feet only for him to run up to her and grab her by the arm.
Charmaine squirmed and punched at his gut, but he did not budge. Charmaine whimpered as she now had no choice but to await whatever he had planned for her.
Mister Kurot bent Charmaine over and she screamed when she felt his heavy fist land across her back, driving her to her hands and knees. She had no time to absorb the blow when she felt a piece of flesh between her shoulder blades get squeezed and twisted, causing her to yelp. Did he just pinch her? Could that be why he was called, ‘Mister Kurot’?
Charmaine whimpered as he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to her feet. Her heart skipped a beat as he tilted her neck to the left. What was he going to do to her now?
She shrieked when he grabbed a piece of her flesh, twisted and held on, this time near her carotid artery. Charmaine flailed her arms about wildly and fell on her knees. At this point, her vision began to fade along with the shouts of the crowd started.
“Charmaine,” cried the referee, “do you want to submit?”
“Yes,” she replied in a voice barely more audible than a whisper,
“I submit.”
The bell rang and he unceremoniously shoved her face-first onto the mat. As Mister Kurot celebrated his victory, Charmaine rubbed her neck and then her back, moaning as she did so.
Simultaneous feelings of humiliation and relief washed over her. On the one hand, she was glad that the match was over. At least the pain in her back started to subside. On the other hand, she lost the match, as a victim of pinches, right here in her native Phillipines.
On the other hand, she could barely suppress a chuckle. Why would he, a white man, use a word in her language as his own ring name?
Charmaine took a deep breath and looked down at her bare feet. No turning back now, she thought, I have a job to do.
Charmaine ran towards the ropes, bounced off, and headed towards Mister Kurot. She performed a couple of handsprings to give herself momentum and lunged towards him, only for her to bounce off and fly onto the mat. She quickly got to her feet only for him to run up to her and grab her by the arm.
Charmaine squirmed and punched at his gut, but he did not budge. Charmaine whimpered as she now had no choice but to await whatever he had planned for her.
Mister Kurot bent Charmaine over and she screamed when she felt his heavy fist land across her back, driving her to her hands and knees. She had no time to absorb the blow when she felt a piece of flesh between her shoulder blades get squeezed and twisted, causing her to yelp. Did he just pinch her? Could that be why he was called, ‘Mister Kurot’?
Charmaine whimpered as he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to her feet. Her heart skipped a beat as he tilted her neck to the left. What was he going to do to her now?
She shrieked when he grabbed a piece of her flesh, twisted and held on, this time near her carotid artery. Charmaine flailed her arms about wildly and fell on her knees. At this point, her vision began to fade along with the shouts of the crowd started.
“Charmaine,” cried the referee, “do you want to submit?”
“Yes,” she replied in a voice barely more audible than a whisper,
“I submit.”
The bell rang and he unceremoniously shoved her face-first onto the mat. As Mister Kurot celebrated his victory, Charmaine rubbed her neck and then her back, moaning as she did so.
Simultaneous feelings of humiliation and relief washed over her. On the one hand, she was glad that the match was over. At least the pain in her back started to subside. On the other hand, she lost the match, as a victim of pinches, right here in her native Phillipines.
