Well, like I said, it was not a huge school and eventually old Mr.
Dirt-Bag Bully and I were bound to cross paths in a relatively
unregulated environment. Then like the cowardly date rapist, he was
going to want things to get physical despite my protests. That day
came when I was at lunch. I had eaten a healthy, well rounded meal of
french fries and pizza from what was euphemistically called the
'snack lunch' line in the cafeteria so I was naturally well nourished
and ready for anything. I had stayed close to some athletic and large
friends of mine whenever possible to keep the high testosterone
Troglodyte at bay. Were were all sitting in one of two Kivas that
were in the common areas. These Kivas were a series of concentric
squares that stepped down at 2' intervals to provided a depressed
seating area that started out about 12' square and the bottom well
was about 4' square. While I was sitting there explaining to a kid
named Frank why my pants had patches on them that simulated that look
of airmail stamps a chunk of rice crispy treat hit my arm and stuck.
I looked up and there was my nemesis sneer laughing from about ten
feet away. I picked the morsel off of my shirt and fired it right
back at him trying to hit him in his stupid looking face. I missed
but I hit his shirt dead in the center chest and he instantly
switched from bully chuckle to bully rage and closed to distance to
me in what seemed like preternatural time. I was still sitting and he
pressed in close to me, face to face, him standing and me twisted at
the waist. He asked me what in the heavily accented eff word I
thought effing doing – and as an addendum to to question declared
once again that I was a pussy. I told him that he had accidentally
dropped some rice crispy and I had given it back to him, helpful soul
that I was. He got madder and told me it was not an accident that he
was trying to hit me with it. He told me I had better get it off of
him or I was going to die. I straitened and stood up on the top of
the Kiva, slowly as to not release the chemicals of alarm into his
barely developed brain. I imagined that is acute stress reaction
might just be fight-or-fight and I needed a second to get in good
posture. When I was standing on the edge of the Kiva I was actually a
few inches taller then my antagonist and in a burst of white hot nerd
rage instead of brushing off the crumb and trying to avoid the fight
I punched him as hard as I could on the collar bone. He was shocked
and staggered for a tick as were most of the spectators then he bull
rushed me which sent us both tumbling into the small square well at
the bottom of the Kiva and may have saved my life. In that space we
were both unable to mount a serious offense or defense and there was
a lot of sound and fury signifying nothing (I guess you know what
that means about the narrator.). We were broken up, I was disheveled
but basically unscathed and my opponent looked much the worse for
wear as we were pressed by our shoulders into the principals office
to have a chat. This was my third trip in six weeks so I knew my way.
When the principal asked our story the bully said that I had just
attacked him for no reason and showed him the bruise that was
flowering between his shoulder and neck. I told him about the
constant bullying and that he had thrown food on me and then attacked
me tackling me into the bottom of the well. I was much more eloquent
and forty pounds lighter then this kid so it was not hard to sell my
victim story. It was mostly true with a little shading and with the
parts about starting a joke about him being an exhibitionist left
out. I was cautioned to avoid fights and the other kid was suspended
for two days. Ha ha ha ha ha. I was smiling uncontrollably as I
walked the empty halls back to class and when I walked into class I
had trouble keeping the smile in check as everyone disregarded the
teacher when someone asked what happened. I said I would tell whoever
was interested later and class went on while I whispered the details
of the fight and the suspension to my closest neighbors. Then the
story was embellished and compounded until it was I who had initiated
the fight and threw the much bigger bully down the Kiva steps before
I broke his collar bone with a precision punch. I didn't disabuse
these notions. The next Monday when his suspension had been served
the bully was back in classes much subdued and as far as I remember
never said anything to me ever again which suited me fine. He dropped
out a few years later and I never saw him again.
