I'm standing here, squared off with my mortal enemy.
That's a bit of a stretch, he's just some jackass who wanted to cheat off of me. I don't even know why, its such an easy fucking class. But I guess that's why he's stupid. So stupid that he didn't realize I gave him the wrong answers until he got his test back three weeks later. On his scantron, one section spells LOL if you look hard enough. It was really a work of fucking art, so grand that I actually had to point it out to him when he confronted me. He was pretty mad. Something about repeating the tenth grade for not passing a state mandated exam.
He looked so victorious when he turned his test in. I told him that I had to finish my essay section and so as he went to turn his in, I quickly replaced the answers I gave him with the ones that were correct. He's an oaf in every sense of the word. A big lump of semi-retardedness. Not that anyone would say that to his face, he would probably eat them.
And the beautiful thing is that I was completely justified to soundly fuck him over, especially after the harassment I had to suffer at his hands. A month ago, he and a couple of his friends put a laxative in my soda during lunch. We go to a small school so you know how that goes. Half of the people in my grade knew before someone had the heart to tell me. Half of the entire school knew what to laugh about when I first pleaded with the teacher to go to the bathroom. On the test day, the moment when he tapped my shoulder and hissed “Help me out with the answers, man,” I knew that God loves a good bit of vengeance. Not the “everyone be nice and love and forgive your enemies” but the old school eye-for-a-motherfucking-eye type thing. It won't be as devastating as learning how badly equipped the boy's bathroom is in public schools, or how half digested lunchroom Salisbury steaks burn all the way out, or how the entire school asks for a week after, quoting those fiber supplement commercials, “Are you having 'irregular' bowel movements?” No it wouldn't be that bad. But he would suffer nonetheless.
I think that there's a kind of karmic turnaround, and it takes about two weeks. Apparently the powers that be have a waiting period or some bureaucracy that takes about two weeks to get through. Anyway, what goes around comes around, like a sledgehammer.
Nope, that was his fist.
It happened when I was walking home. I live too close for the school bus and too far to walk. So that means I have to walk since it's the solution that's bothersome to the least amount of people. I know, it doesn't make much sense to me, especially since it takes me almost an hour to walk home. Two fucking miles with my huge ass backpack. See,my locker doesn't open on top of the fact that it's on the third floor far away from all of my classes, so I'm doomed to carry one advanced placement American history book, a thick and moldy Calculus book, a thin and useless Economics book, and a few binders and folders. Yeah, plus whatever I can stuff in there when I'm in my pack rat mood. And this is my second backpack of the year. The first one tore apart at the seams. In fact, it tore apart at the seams in the hallway during passing period. Oh that was a laugh. It must have been, because everyone was still laughing long after I pulled my papers together and rushed to class hugging the chaotic mound of tree pulp.
“And on top of all that, ladies. He's Single!!!”
Not one of my finer momenst. Then again, I don't remember there being many of those during high school.
Anyway, so I'm hauling my disintegrating backpack at the start of my 2.3 mile sojourn home when I started to realize there happened to be a lot of students gathering nearby on the abandoned lot.
This lot was, up until four years ago, a final refuge for wildlife. I remember because there were a few good places to play tag and the like. I loved that place. Now, it's just a lot that no one uses, except to store their litter. Humanity's avarice cut down the last vestiges of life in this city, only to abandon it for looking too shoddy. Crossing it was the first leg of my journey. But at the moment, there are about a dozen students waiting there for me. I knew they were waiting for me, because the moment I came into view they stared at me and started giggling that knowing giggle. Just like one of those old cartoons, I was about to get hit by an anvil that only they saw coming. That anvil stood in the middle of the crowd with his head bobbing back and forth, Nicholas.
To be honest, I knew this was coming, and part of my brain, in it's recent stage of ritalin withdrawl, planned it. Nick was the only actor that I knew without a doubt was involved with poisoning me. He was the face that I could put on this entire fiasco. Even the custodians look at me with pity in their eyes now.
My few reliable friends told me I should turn the guys that did this in to the police, since I could have died from vacating my organs violently, they said. Or at least tell a teacher. But, no. I had no wish to go out like little bitch. I would get revenge. And here, on the cracked and stained cement, is where I would find it.
At least, that's how it went down in my head. According to my brain, (which spends too much time reading books or watching cartoons or playing video games, now that I think of it) I would access some hidden martial arts potential, the kind that would get me my own cartoon in which everyone has huge eyes, and ridiculous hair, and I would kick the bully's ass. True underdog shit, David and Goliath A.D.
Hoping this would be the case, I stood my ground in front of my Goliath, my Cyclops, my Aku. Yeah, I'm a nerd, what up? My giant bag of books lay with a verified friend among the crowd. Before, I couldn't run because I had that huge pack on me, now I can't run because I'm standing in a group of students, looking desperately for some way to beat this guy up. It's both too early and too late to get out of this mess I'm in.
“Don't worry,” I tell myself, imagining that I'm my own favorite corner man, a crusty old fart massaging my shoulders reassuringly, “He don't know you. You're gonna make him pay for underestimating you.”
“Don't creep off, Ben, we need to work some things out,” he said in that cheesy talk show host voice, drawing guffaws and chortles from the crowd.
I looked around the crowd for some familiar faces, just in case I would want some help. In a glance, I saw that I knew most of these people. Then again, we go to a small school, so that doesn't mean much. I turned back to my foe and felt his breath on my face.
“You're a little bitch, you know that? Do you know how badly you fucked me over?” He hissed, so close that I could clearly see his face if I took off my glasses.
I shrugged, attempting to seem aloof and only looking like the awkward bully bait that I am, “Shouldn't have tried to cheat off of me, dumbass.”
Bad choice of words.
“Who the fuck are you calling dumb, bitch!?” He roared, and pushed me to punctuate the word “bitch”. I staggered a bit more than I wanted to. He's going to eat me as an afternoon snack.
Man, if I let him push me like that, everyone is going to know I'm a pussy. Hurry, sack up and push him back.
I marched to him and pushed, leaving the whole of my body diagonal, my weight resting just behind my forearms. I barely heard the concrete creak beneath his feet.
This can't end well.
He put his fat padded palm to my face, and shoved. This time I couldn't save my pride by staying on my feet. I slid across the nasty pavement on my back.
He's lucky I'm not REALLY mad, I thought as I scrambled to my feet, painfully aware of all the bloodthirsty eyes. I would fuck him up. It's true. I read about a woman who lifted a car to save her baby, and a guy who cleared a fence while running from a local gang. Adrenaline is that can of whoop ass. But for some reason I felt powerless. And more than the possibility of getting my ass kicked, that hurt the most. So I swung, scoring a hit. Right on his left eye.
WHOOO!! I hit him. Do it again!
Oh shit. I hit him. I didn't mean it.
Nick was visibly angry, as a chorus of “OH”'s rose from the crowd. He swung and caught me just as I put my hands up in feeble defense. My glasses flew off and I was instantly half blind in a fist fight.
Oh no, my mom is going to be pissed if I break those glasses. Can I call a timeout?
Okay now's the time to get mad. Just like in the movies, he slaps off my glasses, now I unleash the FURY!!
The solar plexus. I read that they only take ten pounds of force and then ribs start to break. With this in mind, I throw a punch directly into his chest with all my mouselike might. We pause and look at each other. I, to wait for his response, and he, to wait for me to stop hitting like a girl, I guess.
Gotta come harder than that, boy.
Frantically I swing my arms, making what must have looked like a weak ass windmill, judging by the laughs from the crowd. Once again, I struck him, this time in the lip, but at a tragic cost. He swung his caveman club of an arm and connected, making my head swim. I stayed on my feet though, knowing full well that if I fell, not only would Nick kick the shit out of me until I cried like the bitch he wanted everyone to see, but a lot of these spectators would stop watching and become a part of the show, stomping and kicking, just so they can be included in the wild story when they tell their friends.
Can I tag somebody in or something? I should have worn my fucking contacts. I can't see a damn thing anymore.
Then, I lost. But,the fight didn't end gently. No, it ended with a hail of punches as my brain screamed, “FUCK YOU!” My mouth would too, but my jaw was busy bouncing back and forth between my beleaguered cheeks.
FUCK YOU, FATASS
FUCK NO, I can't start crying
I was on the ground, my feeble resistance finally crushed, and at this point a classmate broke ranks to intervene.
Finally, someone isn't an unrelenting bastard at this school. Please help me.
“Hey. Hey Ben. You okay man?” Derek asked, while trying to shake me to my senses.
I was passing out, napping on a blood soaked patch of concrete, what the fuck do you think.
“Hey guess what.” As he smiled, I could only think Now is not the time for a game of riddles, this isn't Lassie.
“You got knocked the FUCK out!!” As Derek's image faded, and the sound of the crowd rolling in uncontrollable fits of laughter swirled around me, all I could think of was, This is bullshit. If I broke a bone or anything, I'm gonna beat your ass.
I couldn't help but to chuckle at my empty threat, even if my face was in agony. Then, nothing registered as I passed out, insulted and injured.
College had better be incredible to make up for this shit.