The trouble with being a bully.
The only time i ever stole something (meaning outside of my home because some old wise guy said there is no such thing as stealing within a home, and thats a home as opposed to a house because they're not the same but i'll clarify that next time)....anyways, the only thing i ever stole antyhing, i got my ass kicked for it.
It is also the only time i ever got my ass kicked.
The article in question was, somewhat ironically, a karate magazine. I couldnt help laughing at life's cruel sense of humour, myself. It was my first term of secondary school, an all-boys boarding school for that matter that i had gone to by choice. See, i had no idea it was an all-boys gig; all i knew was, every guy in the neighbourhood where i'd grown up had at some point gone to that school so it was definately the only school i wanted to go to. Not too bright. i remember getting there, those regular "first day at school" jitters creeping up my spine but quickly replaced with an awkard sensation of bewonderment: a school in this country where the girls' uniform was identical to the boys? Who would have believed it? ...And, hey, how come all these 'girls' are so flat chested and.....wait a second; wait just one second. Those arent girls at all, are they? Not even flat chested ones. THEY'RE BOYS!!! THEY'RE ALL BOYS!!!!
I was not pleased.
Perhaps i was lucky enough to have an older cousin there and a much older neighbour there to protect me from the bullies. Not just any older neighbour but infact the ringleader and most notorious of the bullies; they called him Impossible! Even the teachers called him that. Not the way you'd say Mission: Impossible. But the way you'd witness a guy get tattoed by a 4*4 pickup truck and then miraulously get up and just shake it off and you'd go, "Impossible!" It was like being sent to hell but having the devil on your team. All term long, I wasnt touched. Wasnt even looked at sideways. Sure i had to surrender all my money and food supplies but hey, i didnt go to sleep afraid of waking up with a raw anus. Sure i had to wash Impossible!'s clothes all term long but it was worth it. This would however be the sourse of my ass whooping.
One hot afternoon, having done what i considered to be an outstanding job of Impossible!'s laundry; see thats how you get through doing things you dont want to. Its all about how you look at it; that's the key. I was so pleased with my job that as i laid Impossible!'s clothes on his bed in his empty room, i let myself relax a bit. kick my feet back and picked up a magazine lying in a corner. "Wow, karate! Something new. What the hell, i'll just borrow this and hand it back to him when i'm done. In a coupla days. "
"A coupla days" turned into 3 weeks.
By the time i got wind of the storm ahead, i was already in the eye of it. A friend of mine came rushing into our dorm looking for me. He said Impossible! was looking for me. He said Impossible! had been going crazy over some magazine that was missing from his room; a karate magazine. That he had been asking around and someone had mentioned that they had seen me with a karate magazine. Only then did i undersand what he was saying: IMPOSSIBLE! was looking for ME.
When it came, it wasnt anything like i'd imagined it might be. See in my head, it was a classic texas showdown. I, ofcourse, was Wyatt Earp staring down this villain at O.K. Corral, high noon, dust blowing all over the place, soundtrack. Fantastically western. But the reality was nothing like this at all. It was more like a toreador staring down a bull thats realised the bull fighter's got not tricks left in his bag. thats what it felt like taking a blow from Impossible!'s clubs for fists: it was like being run over by a bull.
And just as i crumbled to the ground in agony, it came to me; a childhood memory of this kid in my kindergarten class, this typical geeky, nerdy kid who would always hand over his treats at snack time. See i didnt know it then, but I was a bully. I never hit him or anything; i dont even remember threatening him or being mean to him. But i remember him being afraid. I didnt understand it then but he was afraid and i took advantage of his fear.
So at the end of the day, the trouble with being a bully is that you gotta understand that karma is gonna catch up with you sooner or later. It might be your former victim getting a makeover on some reality show to come back and kick your ass or winding up at some tax office in a position to ruin your life.
Or it might just be staring down a bull at the O.K. Corral.
It is also the only time i ever got my ass kicked.
The article in question was, somewhat ironically, a karate magazine. I couldnt help laughing at life's cruel sense of humour, myself. It was my first term of secondary school, an all-boys boarding school for that matter that i had gone to by choice. See, i had no idea it was an all-boys gig; all i knew was, every guy in the neighbourhood where i'd grown up had at some point gone to that school so it was definately the only school i wanted to go to. Not too bright. i remember getting there, those regular "first day at school" jitters creeping up my spine but quickly replaced with an awkard sensation of bewonderment: a school in this country where the girls' uniform was identical to the boys? Who would have believed it? ...And, hey, how come all these 'girls' are so flat chested and.....wait a second; wait just one second. Those arent girls at all, are they? Not even flat chested ones. THEY'RE BOYS!!! THEY'RE ALL BOYS!!!!
I was not pleased.
Perhaps i was lucky enough to have an older cousin there and a much older neighbour there to protect me from the bullies. Not just any older neighbour but infact the ringleader and most notorious of the bullies; they called him Impossible! Even the teachers called him that. Not the way you'd say Mission: Impossible. But the way you'd witness a guy get tattoed by a 4*4 pickup truck and then miraulously get up and just shake it off and you'd go, "Impossible!" It was like being sent to hell but having the devil on your team. All term long, I wasnt touched. Wasnt even looked at sideways. Sure i had to surrender all my money and food supplies but hey, i didnt go to sleep afraid of waking up with a raw anus. Sure i had to wash Impossible!'s clothes all term long but it was worth it. This would however be the sourse of my ass whooping.
One hot afternoon, having done what i considered to be an outstanding job of Impossible!'s laundry; see thats how you get through doing things you dont want to. Its all about how you look at it; that's the key. I was so pleased with my job that as i laid Impossible!'s clothes on his bed in his empty room, i let myself relax a bit. kick my feet back and picked up a magazine lying in a corner. "Wow, karate! Something new. What the hell, i'll just borrow this and hand it back to him when i'm done. In a coupla days. "
"A coupla days" turned into 3 weeks.
By the time i got wind of the storm ahead, i was already in the eye of it. A friend of mine came rushing into our dorm looking for me. He said Impossible! was looking for me. He said Impossible! had been going crazy over some magazine that was missing from his room; a karate magazine. That he had been asking around and someone had mentioned that they had seen me with a karate magazine. Only then did i undersand what he was saying: IMPOSSIBLE! was looking for ME.
When it came, it wasnt anything like i'd imagined it might be. See in my head, it was a classic texas showdown. I, ofcourse, was Wyatt Earp staring down this villain at O.K. Corral, high noon, dust blowing all over the place, soundtrack. Fantastically western. But the reality was nothing like this at all. It was more like a toreador staring down a bull thats realised the bull fighter's got not tricks left in his bag. thats what it felt like taking a blow from Impossible!'s clubs for fists: it was like being run over by a bull.
And just as i crumbled to the ground in agony, it came to me; a childhood memory of this kid in my kindergarten class, this typical geeky, nerdy kid who would always hand over his treats at snack time. See i didnt know it then, but I was a bully. I never hit him or anything; i dont even remember threatening him or being mean to him. But i remember him being afraid. I didnt understand it then but he was afraid and i took advantage of his fear.
So at the end of the day, the trouble with being a bully is that you gotta understand that karma is gonna catch up with you sooner or later. It might be your former victim getting a makeover on some reality show to come back and kick your ass or winding up at some tax office in a position to ruin your life.
Or it might just be staring down a bull at the O.K. Corral.
“If you let a bully come in your front yard, he'll be on your porch the next day and the day after that he'll rape your wife in your own bed.” Lyndon B Johnson.
posted by R. Wagaba at 4:01 AM
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