"Tyson's gonna knock out that boy in one round haha," I tweet with a smirk. My eyes are tired, it has been a long day.
"A long life," I can't help but think as I catch my reflection in the now-dark iPhone screen. I can't quite meet my own gaze, my face isn't what it used to be. My remnant grin accompanies deep wrinkles-- ghosts of smiles long past.
"Ah whatever!" I snap out of it. "that Jack Paul's gonna learn that old lions still have teeth! The punch is the last thing to go for experienced folks like me and Iron Mike!"
Send tweet.
I start shadowboxing, but I almost knock over my Rocky puzzle. Almost. Still got that killer instinct.
A wisp of white hair falls in front of my eyes. I look up and notice I'm not alone. In fact, there are many people in this room, all staring at me. My children are here. They're older than they should be. And their children? I can remember almost all of their names.
I raise flaccid fists from the sides of my bed- my skin looks like parchment. "Haha I bet nobody wants to step into the ring with an old lion like me!"
My grandson gently lowers my arms "Never."
#JakePaulMikeTyson