Everyone knows that the most horrifying moments in a child's development is not mere ghosts, goblins, or the frequent accidental viewings of parental freebasing, but rather the elementary school bullies. Every school had them, every grade had them; they were a disease, a sexually transmitted disease if you will, and you were a cheap trick that had strayed from your pimp. Without a doubt, the most fearsome species of the playground bully was the 6th grader. The 6th grade bully had worked his way up the ranks and now was king of the school, at least for one year. They say every generation has a hero, and a story to tell. I was confident enough to say that was my generation, and I was going to that hero. This is my story of the time I was confronted by a 6th grade bully…and lived to tell about it.
I was walking home one cold winter day, just contemplating my daily struggle of choosing the comfort of silk boxers over the practicality of cotton briefs when I turned onto a long narrow street not far from where I lived. I had once seen some tough looking kids bullying some little kids on this street a while back. The fear developed within me and I was always afraid that I would meet up with them again... sure enough, this day I fate saw to it that I would. I was almost near the end of this long street when 3 big kids turned the corner. Just by looking at them you could tell they were 6th graders, you could just see it in their eyes. Two of the kids were about equal in size, I didn’t catch their names, but the 3rd kid, the leader of the pack, was huge. He stood at least 5 feet tall and probably weighed 135 pounds. His name was Matt. I called him Fat Matt in my head as I knew a battle was about to take place. Realistically, he wasn’t all that fat, he was built more like a canadian athlete.
I knew I was in trouble. I started to cross to the other side of the street. But they quickly intercepted my path.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Matt demanded.
“Home” I quickly stammered.
“I don’t think so,” interjected non-fat Fat Matt.
Then it happened. Matt’s sidekicks each grabbed one of my arms and held them out to the side. “Mother Fucker” I thought. This was the ultimate bully pummeling position. Matt slyly began cracking his knuckles with an evil smirk on his face.
It was then something came over me. My spirit wasn’t going to let this happen, not today. Today was my day. I would be that hero. Adrenaline surged through my veins and I felt very strong all of a sudden. With my newfound strength and courage I thrust my arms out, grabbing both of Matt’s sidekicks by the neck. I swung both of them in towards me, clashing their skulls against each other. They fell to the ground as if Lil John had exclaimed "Get Low", but it wasn't southern crunk that sent them to the concrete, it was the sheer adrenaline of a manchild that loved his frosted flakes and water. The look of astonishment on Matt's face was quickly replaced by a look of pain as I shattered his nose with my fist.
“You...you broke my nose!” Matt screamed. “I’m going to kill you!”
“Funk dat shit” I thought as I swiftly kicked him in the junk. Fat Matt slammed to the ground and lay beside his 2 friends. I stood for a few seconds over them, admiring my work. And then I ran as fast as I could. I ran all the way home. When I got home I was... I was... just so excited. I called my friends and went over to their house.
Incredibly enough, once I had finished the story my friends weren’t all that impressed.
“You’re proud of the fact that you beat up three 6th graders?” my friend Mike asked.
“Fa sho.” I responded.
“But you’re 20 years old.” he said.
They just didn’t get it. Yes this happened just 2 weeks ago. But much like stealing from a department store, taking down a 6th grade bully is an incredible accomplishment no matter what your age is. Fuck you Fat Matt. I hope your balls hurt for weeks.