Wednesday, August 10, 2011

It Takes A Village (Part 4)

He was the neighborhood bully by the name of  Paul Ellison.  He was twelve at that time and already he was as big as the average adult male. He used this size advantage quite effectively, picking on younger and smaller kids. He bordered on cruelty, but it seemed to me he particularly liked to make my life miserable.

I had no time to turn around and go back the way I came. If he saw me running, he would chase me down with sinister pleasure. So I tried my best not to look as scared as I felt. I was about 10 feet away from him when he started in on me. He was smiling, always a bad sign with him.

"Hey Gayman, heard your got your ass beat by a little old lady." Paul said, laughing.  As big as he was, he still had a young boy's voice, which made his taunting more annoying.

"You're lucky it wasn't me who smacked you, because you've not gotten up." He jabbed. I stayed quiet, as I usually do with him.  He put his arm around my shoulders as I try to go by him, and he continued insulting me as we walked.

"You're so wimpy, my five year old sister could take you. Heck, my great grandmother could take you and she's like 80." He rambled on.

This continued as I made my way home. He calling me names, and I just taking it without a word. So far, he hasn't tried to physically hurt me, and just maybe he had some sympathy what happened. That hope was short lived.

A few feet from my house, he made stop behind a huge maple tree that one could hide behind and no one would notice that anyone was there.

"You know the drill.  Hand me your money." Paul snarled as he grabbed the front of my shirt. 

I reached into my front pocket of my shorts. I had two dollars that I earned the weekend before raking an old woman's yard. Also in that pocket, I had a quartz stone, about the size of a golf ball and shaped like a diamond, that I was going to give a girl I liked at the time. I put the stone in my palm while holding the 2 one dollar bills near the end of my fingers.  I slowly drew my hand out.

Paul quickly grabbed the money looked at it suspiciously.  "This is all ....!

Before he finished that thought, I brought my stone stuffed fist and hit him as hard as I could with an uppercut underneath the chin.  I leaped as I threw it and I knew it was maybe my best punch ever.

Paul crumpled to the ground, the money flying from his hand. His chin was busted wide open, blood oozing down his next as he laid on his left side.

I quickly picked up the money. As I was getting ready to run away, I spotted big Mr. Bojarsinski running toward us.

"Hey, stop!  You rob boy!  I get you!" He yelled in his deep accented voice.

Guessing that he didn't see the whole incident. I decided I wasn't sticking around to explain it to him.


End of Part 4

1 comment:

Dragonfly1805 said...

Hi Fighter poet....Your writing is very interesting. I just wanted to say hi. S.M.L