"Its not worth my getting changed," he said, "I'll just slug you flat and go home."

"That's not the rules!" I said, "You have to fight me according to the rules!"

Again, Brooks sighed. He shoved his back-pack off and pulled a pair of big, red boxing gloves out, then he stripped down to his shorts and put the gloves on. I danced about the ring, throwing punches at the air, and trying to look professional. Brooks ignored me. For him, this was a total non-event.

When he was ready, I went to my corner and sat on the little stool. Brooks leaned casually back against the drum. He looked impressive. Muscle, muscle, muscle.

"Before we start," I said, "I'd just like to nip off to the bathroom."

Brooks gave his assent, as I knew he would. He was amused.

I was back in two minutes.

"What took you so long?" asked Brooks, "Were you sick?"

"No," I said, "I was giving you a chance to run away."

I rang a bell and pranced about the ring. Brooks sauntered towards me and snorted. Before he could do anything, I hit his stomach and danced away. It felt like concrete. Brooks laughed at me and raised his gloves.

"This is going to be too easy!" he said.

But if there was one thing I was good at, besides reading books, it was prancing. I pranced left. I pranced right. I pranced back, and I pranced forwards. I pranced like a grasshopper, and I pranced like a sand flea. I jinked and binked, hopped and twirled. This way and that, zip zap hop. And Brooks tried to hit me, but I was like a mouse to an elephant. His brute strength had made him slower, because he had so much heavy muscle to swing around. I was as light as a feather, so I was quicker than him.

Round one finished and Brooks was annoyed. I had punched him a dozen times, but he had been swatting flies. He snorted at me and waited for the bell to go again.

"Would you mind if I gave my face a quick wash?" I asked, "There's a little sweat on it?"