By Fernando
I only had one major event – 6th grade I think – that actually resulted in violence. There was this white shirted stoner. He had a white T-shirt every day – likely the same white T-shirt. I think his name was Terry. He was huge for being a 6th grader. He lived in a little known patch of run down houses just below my neighborhood – I think my dad referred to the place as “dogpatch” — I’m not sure what that is reference to, but it stuck. Anyway, Terry did not say much, what he did say was often mumbled. He often treated others poorly. One recess, we were all playing football – Terry was on the other team. An off and on friend of mine we will refer to as Mark approached us – “can I play” — Mark often treated me like crap – sometimes using me as a subject with the “popular kids.” I saw this as an opportunity to make peace. “Sure – you can be on their team”. Mark was a new waver, Terry was a stoner – they never talked or got along for any matter from what I remember. Terry immediatly spoke up “NO!! YOU CAN’T PLAY”. I, for whatever stupid reason, pushed the issue. “come on man, let him play, you guys need more players”. “NOOOOOO!!!! GET OFF MY TEAM!!!!” he responded – looking and sounding much like the scary train ghost in the movie “Ghost”. I continued the push the issue. “big, deal, let him play” It was at this time he flipped and directed all his rage at me. He came at me, mumbling obscenities and filled with rage, fists clenched. I started backing up and was thinking OH S**T, White shirt stoner is gona pummel me. Before I could even react, a giant left hood came at me from out of sight and nailed me in the right cheek. All I remember is hitting the ground and all of my friends jumping on white shirt stoner to hold him back. It ended as quickly as it started. But the punch he landed tore up the inside of my cheek due to the fact I had braces. After spitting out much blood, I went to the principal and sought justice from the man.
By Paco
I managed to get through my childhood without a real “nemasis”. But there were a few run-ins that occured, but they were minor at best.
Catholic School Bliss
There were no bullies at my Catholic school. I would assume that is because if you were a bad kid you were smacked down by a nun or the principal. So from K – 5th grade all the kids pretty much got along. There were minor skirmishes here and there, but nothing major, and certainly nothing that I was ever involved in.
Public School “fight”
When I moved onto to public school for 6th grade, I had my first and really only “fighting” experience. I guess there are no holds barred in the public realm. Actually I wouldn’t say it was the schools fault at all… it was ours.
Anyways… I have no idea why I decided to fight this kid name Dave W.
I actually got along fine with Dave, he wasn’t a pain in the ass or anything, in fact, looking back I don’t remember at all why we decided to throw down. But how we started to fight was odd.
One day after school I was over at his house. We were just hanging out or something, but we were in his room and for some reason that I can’t recall, our blood starting boiling a bit.
And the next thing we knew, we were tackling one another, throwing punches, and rolling around on the ground, and other random mayhem. It was so weird, we just kept pummelling each other, but it was almost out of fun, and not really because we were super mad, but we were serious in trying to hurt each other.
It was funny too… at one point his mom knocked on the door.
“What are you two doing in there? Is everything ok?”
We stopped, the battle paused…
“Ummm… nothing Mom.” Dave replied.
“Ohh… ok.”
And soon after, the battle resumed. It continued on for another few minutes until we both were tired. And then it just stopped… it was so strange. Nobody had any blood, or bruises, but I think one of our shirts was torn up a bit. We kinda just sat there for a few awkward moments, and then I left.
The next day at school it was like nothing ever happened…
Teased in the 9th grade
My first few days at the mighty Nova were not really a good precurser to my experiences there. In general, I had a GREAT time at Nova, but the first few days weren’t so great.
For some reason these 2 kids in my 6th period PE class decided I was going to be the kid they picked on. They were bigger than me, and I knew NOBODY in the class, so I felt pretty helpless. It went on for a week or so, and I just sat back and took the verbal abuse they threw my way. Eventually, it got to the point where I dreaded going to PE class. They never physically did anything, they were just complete a$$holes who constantly teased me. So finally after a couple of weeks of this, I told my parents I wanted OUT of my 6th period PE class. Luckily, it was not a problem. I was moved to 2nd period PE, and my English class was moved from 2nd to 6th. Problem solved… I never had a problem again, and funny… even when I ran into these crappy kids in the hall they never messed with me again.
So all in all… my childhood was pretty much fighting and bully free!
By Jaimenacho
Justin F.
He was a kid who moved to town during my 6th grade year. He was an absolute idiot. I can’t describe it any other way that does him justice. He was one of those kids who tried to gain acceptance by acting like a fool whenever the opportunity presented itself. He was loud and obnoxious in class. He constantly made fun of the kids who the ‘popular’ kids made fun of, to try and gain their approval. He embellished or made up stories, to try and seem cool. If it was annoying, he did it. The funny thing was…that while we all knew someone who acted like this, and WAS accepted as ‘cool’ for doing it, Justin was sadly NOT one of these kids. EVERYONE hated the poor bastard.
The bigger, ‘popular’ kids always tried to ‘call him out’ because nothing would have felt better to them, or gotten their point across better, that he was NOT liked, than beating his face in. Justin KNEW better than to accept any fight with a kid who would surely destroy his will to live, so he always said something like.
“He hehehe, I ain’t gonna fight you dude…no way, you’ll kill me.” This always elicited the “Fine, you P*ssy.” Response from the other kid, and the situation ended.
I hung out with some of these popular kids from time to time. I wasn’t IN the group so to speak–I wasn’t invited to parties, or privy to go out with the “hot” girls, or any of that ‘upper level’ popular kid stuff, but I was cool enough to be allowed to hang out at school with them.
I also despised Justin F, and I figured, while he wouldn’t fight the bigger kids at school, he’d surely fight me. I knew he thought he could take me. One day at school, as was normal, Justin wandered around our group making jokes, and just generally annoying the world.
“You’re such a loser.” I told him, “Why don’t you leave…you’re annoying everyone”
“F*ck you dude….Shut your face, and don’t tell me what to do…”
“You’re a LOSER! And you’re a huge P*ssy!!! You chicken out of every fight that comes your way, I bet you wouldn’t even fight me.”
This was my plan, to egg him into fighting me. I’d whup his ass, and thereby increase my stature in my peer group.
“Dude, I’d totally kick your ass….” He chorted.
“Really? I call you out…” I said. I can still vividly recall those words being forced out my mouth, like in slow motion. “Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeealllly…..IIIIIIIIIIIIII CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLL YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTT!!!!”
“FINE. When and where?” He reponded.
Sh*t!!!! I thought to myself.
Deep down I honestly thought he wasn’t going to accept. I hadn’t been in a fight before, ever. I had no idea what to do. Now that the calling out had been confirmed by both parties, a fight had to happen. Part of me wanted to scream out “RIGHT HERE!!! JERK!,” and go box his mouth. I was, however, afraid of being suspended, so I suppressed that feeling, and thought of a place….which was hard.
“Dirt Hills after school…” I said nervously.
The dirt hills were near my house, and a good location to fight, because nobody would mess with you there, they were far enough from civilization. They were also close enough to my house, where I could run home if the need was that great.
“Fine!,” He agreed.
“Fine. I said, don’t try and bring anyone to jump in…” I said. I’m not sure why I said this, I guess I figured it was protocol. I’d heard other kids say it, so I figured I had to as well.
“Don’t need too.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“After school.”
“After school.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
That day at school drug on forever. Whenever he and I would pass or see each other in the halls, we’d glare menacingly at each other, to show how seriously we were going to throttle the other. I’m not sure about him, but deep down I was petrified. I didn’t know how to fight.
Sometime during the day I had enlisted the help of an albino kid named Angelo. I’m not sure WHY I asked him to come with me. I think I thought I needed a neutral person to witness the fight, to help tell the tale at school the following day. I also figured that behind his pink skin, white hair, and coke bottle glasses lurked a tiger’s strength. He was the deceptively strong albino boy. He’d help me in case of ‘big kids’ jumping in. He agreed to come with me to my fight, and we met after school to walk towards the hills.
Angelo had some sort of nasal condition, because he had a very snuffled voice, often times hard to comprehend.
“ffnfnnnnhat er you gunnnnfff deeeew?”
“I dunno, I think I might try and kick him down a hill.”
“fffffffffooCooooooooool” He snuffed.
“Yeah…what if he brings other kids?” I asked?
“ffffffffffffhen I’ll fffffffffrump in.”
“Oh…I might try and trip him, then get on top….”
“ffffffffffffrrrrreeeyah”
I strategized some more on our way to the spot. I talked my way through the possible fisticuffs, and Angelo suffled his approval at my plans.
When we got to the spot, we were 5 minutes early.
“ffffffffeeee ain’t ffffffeeeeeere.” Angelo said.
“I know…” I said, constantly surveying the area to make sure I didn’t get jumped.
We waited.
And waited.
And waited.
45 minutes passed, and he hadn’t showed up.
“ffffffffffffffee not comffffffffffffffin.” Angelo said.
“I guess not.” I said. “Should we just leave?”
“ffffffffffffffffeeeeyeah.”
Angelo and I left, stopping by the stores on our way to his house, so he could buy a Sprite. We hung out at his house all day. I was suprised that his family was not albino. I had always kind of suspected he had this creepy white haired family.
That was the first, and last time I ever hung out with Angelo after school.
The next day, at school I was in Mr. Ray’s class putting my things away in the morning, and Justin came into class. I wasn’t really sure what protocol was in the case of a no show. Was I supposed to just tackle him, and fight him there? Did we discuss another date? What did I say?
I finally decided on something along the lines of,
“You’re a f*ckin’ p*ssy!”
“Hey, I tried to get there, but my mom wouldn’t let me go.”
“uh-huh, sure.”
“Why’dn’t we just say we fought, and we both got in a few good shots, but nobody won?” He suggested.
“Uhm.” I hadn’t thought about that, I could say we fought, and that there was no clear winner. While it might diminish my stature as a fighter, at least I wouldn’t have to actually fight, and risk being hit. Still, I had trouble just admitting that, because I was pretty sure I could whup his ass, and that he was bluffing. “No…I’ll fight you. How about today?”
“Can’t, got an appointment.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Can’t”
“Next day?”
“Can’t If I get in trouble again, I go back to jail.”
“Oh. Next week?”
“No.”
It went on like this for awhile before it was apparent that he wasn’t going to fight me ever. I ended up being able to tell the school that he was a huge puss, and wouldn’t fight me. My stature in my peer group never grew, and the subject was dropped altogether shortly thereafter. Eventually, things went right back to the way they used to be. Justin annoying us, and us hating him. I think Pecos tried to fight him once as well, with very similar results.
I’m not sure what happened to Justin. His dad was an independent trucker. I knew they’d moved around a lot prior to coming to Redding, and they’d moved away again at the end of my 6th grade year, on to another town where I’m assuming Justin annoyed other countlesss kids that he wouldn’t fight.
By Eduardo
Just about everybody had a childhood nemesis at one point or another. Maybe you were brutally and actively picked on by someone, or maybe there just was some punk kid who you had it in for. Whatever the case, it’s time to tell us about it. Come on, it’ll be therapeutic.
- What were the circumstances surrounding (and reasons behind) your conflict?
- Were you ever “called out” (or did you call anyone out yourself)?
- Were there ever any threats of getting bigger kids involved (i.e. “I’m gonna git mah cuzzin”)?
- If you fought, did you win?
- Any injuries sustained?
- Did you ever reconcile?
- What is this person doing now?
This ties in with a couple of earlier topics (somewhat), so you may want to link back to earlier entries. Hopefully you will use this topic to expand on some of the people you discussed in them. Please note that these don’t necessarily need to be school-related stories.
As usual, don’t use full names. You’ll score bonus points if you can tell us the current whereabouts of this person (or people). We could even posse up the Amigos and go settle the score with them, if necessary.
You may begin.
