"You're listening to the Jim Rome Show. Today, we've got a treat for all you drones out there in Sports Radio land. Former Oakland Raider turned human punching bag Donnie Briggs is joining us via phone. Heya, Donnie. How's the jaw?"

"Prettier than yours, Jim," Tug says with a short laugh. The radio host is already grating on the Thyrsus' nerves, but he reminds himself of how his agent, Marty, told him to handle this. Keep it upbeat, keep it positive, roll with the punchlines. You know how to do that, right, big guy?

Everybody's a comedian.

Jim laughs back, and Tug follows with a simple, "Thanks for having me on, Jim."

"Thank you for joining us, Donnie. Most stars, and I'm really stretching that term in your case, Donnie, most stars that take a public beatdown try to keep a low profile. At least, until their lawyers are done suing. How's your case going, anyway?"

Tug's surprise at the question is evident as he responds, "There is no case, Jim. I'm not suing anyone."

"Really? I'd have sued your old boxing coach, at least." Donnie laughs dutifully. "So, no lawsuits. Is that maybe because you started the fight with your inflammatory remarks about the Irish? In an Irish bar," Jim reminds his listeners, and the sound engineer plays a cuckoo bird, in case anyone wasn't getting the gist. "What do you have against the Irish, anyway, Donnie?"

Breathe. This is the reason we're here. "I'm glad you brought that up, Jim. I'd like to clear that up if I may. I have nothing against Irish people. I've never in my life made a disparaging word about them. The allegation that I started that bar fight by spouting racist remarks is absurd-"

"You didn't say anything about the Iri-"

"No, Jim, I did not. It was a crowded bar. I heard it, too, from someone standing behind me. Problem is, I'm such a large guy, I must have blocked the culprit from view of the rightfully upset patrons. They looked around to see who was talking and only saw me."

"Really?" Jim says flabbergasted. "Your defense is that some midget behind you was talking smack?"

"They prefer 'dwarf,' I think, Jim." The Thyrsus smiles. He was getting the hang of this. It's like football, only with words. And he's pretty sure he just intercepted his opponent.

"Uh, okay, but..." the host flounders.

"Hold on, Jim, I'm not finished. That's not the whole of it. I don't know who's responsible for researching your facts, but didn't it occur to anyone to check out my family tree? My name is Donnie. D-O-N-N-I-E. As in, 'Donnie Boy?' I am one-quarter Irish, Jim, and proud of that heritage," Tug states emphatically. Touchdown. Do a little dance. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

"Uh...really," Jim says flatly. "Well, regardless, you got your ass kicked very, very publicly. How'd you get beat so bad, champ?"

He gives another short laugh. "Simple, Jim. I wasn't fighting back. See, I didn't want to get sued, myself. I only had one pro year, ya'know." He and Jim laugh together on that one. "But, I have an announcement, as far as that goes. Breaking story, just for you, Jim."

You can almost hear Jim shrug. The host was no longer conducting this train. "Shoot, big guy."

"I'm extending a formal invitation to the men who assaulted me. You think you're tough enough to take Donnie Briggs down twice? Okay. I'm announcing a Cage Match for Charity. Each of those men can meet me in the ring, one at a time or all at once, it don't matter to me. The purse is ten thousand dollars of my own money, Jim. If I beat every opponent, the whole purse is donated to the Red Cross. If I don't, then half goes to the Red Cross, and the rest is split up among however many of them are left standing when I go down. I'm working to get other local businesses to contribute to this charity event, as well. Hell, Jim. I'll even let you in on the action," he says with a wide grin. "Whaddaya say? Think you're tough enough to go toe to toe with me?"