Monday, September 22, 2008

Hey You! Remember Me?

I'm totally biting on the running theme from thatgirl's blog. It's the one right over there on the sidebar from which I stole the title of this post. You should totally click over there after you read this to see how reliving one's adolescence online is properly done. If Sam from Quantum Leap jumped into Eminem as a teenager (and Eminem was a girl) it would be something like what her posts are like. Except that she's not all that interested in rap that I'm aware of and, oh yeah, she turned out all right. But she's got this way of dealing with all the crap she lived through and looking at it with the eye of experience that makes me aspire to better writing myself, so here goes...

Hey you! Remember Me? Yeah you, Jim. (name changed to protect the idiot innocent) Remember walking into eighth grade art class and knocking me off my stool every day for a year? I remember how not even detention and failing the class were enough to deter you from your self-appointed rounds. I do have to hand you that one thing, you were the model of consistancy on that.

There's probably nothing in your experience that would be similar to my delight at finding out on the first day of ninth grade that you had moved away. There was no need to inquire why, who the fuck cared? It shortened the list of people actively out to get me by approximately three percent, and that made for a pretty good first day.

Time Warp...

On the first day of eleventh grade you were back. The very first time I passed you in the hall by the science room you let out some smarmy little comment like, "Hey fag! I'm back... miss me?" I saw your hand start to snake out for what I'm sure you thought would be an easy book spill, a nice way to slide back into the bully routine at old ACS. What you hadn't anticipated was that during the previous two years, while you had been sneaking smokes and attempting to get beer, I had been running, swimming, cycling and eating... the whole twenty-four months. I'm sure in your eyes I was still four inches shorter than you and just waiting to be pushed around.

Well, it was your eyes that gave you away for the pathetic looser I knew you to be when you found yourself pressed up against a locker with your toes just touching the terrazo and still looking up at me. Quite a surprise to find out that the little pipsqueak you planned on pushing around was now two inches taller than you and apparently composed of 150 pounds of stainless steel wrapped in leather.

With my left hand still cradling my un-spilled books and my right hand pinning you to the lockers by your collar bones (because if I had actually choked you I might get in trouble, but going just below the throat meant that the two teachers likely to witness the event (my swim coach and a Viet Nam vet that thought you were a piece of shit anyway) would likely look the other way and grin) Nesting parenthesis, ka-chow! where was I... oh yeah, pinned to the lockers by your collar bones I was surprised at how insubstantial you were. It felt like I was holding a duffle bag full of gym clothes against the wall and not my former nemesis. After the split second that it took those thoughts to ricochet around my cranium I delivered my line, "Welcome back, Jim. Miss me?!" One of the few times in my life I've actually delivered a good line in the thick of things.

I didn't see too much of you after that. Not surprising. Even if you had managed to delude yourself into thinking that I wouldn't be much of a physical threat, the magic was gone. I had learned that I could defuse many a bully simply by inviting their attacks. Threaten to kick my ass for no reason? Receive an open invite, complete with closed eyes and raised chin. That chin never took hit one because you're all alike, complete chicken-shit losers. After that you must have been keeping an eye out for me because I don't think I ever witnessed you harassing anyone else.

Later that year I found myself at your door while hawking goods to raise money for the band trip or some such thing. At that point I got it. What a sty you had to live in. The empty bottles, full diapers, smoke and trash and the accompanying smell. I can only imagine the way you were treated by your sorry excuses for parents, most likely your mom and a step-dad. I didn't excuse you for any of your actions after that glimpse, but I started to get how you got like that.

So now Miss O is having her first encounters with your type in her kindergarten class. The Missus and I are already arming her with all our time tested methods. If any of your progeny run across our little girl, you're likely going to get asked what some particular phrase means over dinner some night. Our little angel has a writing staff at home, with decades of biting sarcasm on tap. Parents of bullies are going to have to explain to their children how badly they've been mocked and made fools of, and all without our little lady receiving the slightest bit of negative attention from the teacher. You and your type can threaten, but you'll never win.

P.S. Hope that whole fat, bald, alcoholic in a dead end job thing is working out for you Jim, you earned it buddy.



bentownsend said...

"If any of your progeny run across our little girl, you're likely going to get asked what some particular phrase means over dinner some night." - Oh come on Jon, you know families like this don't eat dinner together, and there not going to find time to ask daddy during their bed time story 'cause he will be too busy watching VHS taped replays of his glorious High School Football career and how he "almost made it".

Your story is almost identical to one of mine, maybe I'll tell it someday. Basically change "art class" to "PE". And change "hold up against the wall by collar bones" to "pound about the head and shoulders" and we have my story

Jill said...

wow, I'm skimming my year books now! Tell ms. O my mom punched a kid in the face when she was in school. Just do it! :0

My story would take many a blog to get it all out! But that's becuase Girls aren't quite as suttle, they are wicked! I don't even know if Bitch quite covers it more like F$%Kin Bitch! lets not go there!