Recently, I've had the urge to get into a fist fight. No apparent reason. I just want to get into some kind of scuffle and punch some stranger in the face.
I'm really a very nice person. I probably would never, ever actually punch someone in the face.
But- for some reason, while I'm stuck in traffic, I'll be thinking about some sort of situation- like maybe I'll be out with Lipman and some dude will kind of shove him (on purpose, of course) and Lipman will spill his beer all over his new shoes, hence, leading him to return the shove.. and then of course a fight would break out between the two. I'd let Lipman take on his match, the guy's from Australia, so I know he fights dirty. But let's just say that the stranger has a friend that's about equal to my proportions that decides to get involved, too. That's when I would come in and just wallop the guy. Of course, I'd get a couple hits as well, but my resiliant bone structure would be able to take it. My opponent, on the other hand, would go down after about 6 good shots. Lipman, by that time, would have victoriously beaten his guy down, just in time to see my guy collapse to the floor.
It would be very romantic.
Please- I know that fights never go like this. Fights usually just consist of some shoulder prodding and exchanges of "Fuck You with My Fuck Stick"'s. But, I dunno. I think I'd do okay in a fight.
However. If you turned the clock back about 7 years, you would see that I'm most likely bull shitting myself.
It was the first fight I was ever 'in.' My friends (about 15 of us) and I were hanging out at the local duck pond having an easter egg hunt. Yes. An easter egg hunt. At 11:30PM. We were very cool and hip and original.
If you've ever been to Shreveport, Louisiana, then you'll know that there is absolutely nothing to do in that town unless you are over 21 and like to gamble. For us, an egg hunt at the duck pond was high times. Living On the Edge. Breaking the Shreveport Parks and Recreation Center's curfew of 10PM. Yeah. We were outta control.
Of course, we weren't the only ones there.
After we'd sucessfully had out egg hunt, we'd retreated to the pavillion in the center of the park. Those that dared, smoked their cigarettes. Those that did not dare, sat around and talked about people that weren't there. Very high school, yo.
Just then, these three guys and a gal walked by.
"Fuck you fucking faggots!," one of them yelled at our party.
We all looked at each other. Faggots? Us? Well, yeah, some of us were bi-sexual, but there were no full blown homosexuals in our group. One or two of us may have thought about it, but hadn't actually done anything to prove it. The rest of us were very pleased with our heterosexuality, but disliked the term 'faggot' being used in any sense- less in a British comedy in reference to a cigarette. That always got us.
"Who, us?" one of my clan asked.
"What other faggots would I be talking to, faggot?," one of the Others replied.
None of us answered. You see, we all went to an arts&academic magnet. This sort of behavior was foriegn to us. The closest any of us had ever been to a fight was most likely when Mr. Pardue and Ms. Swaleugh got into an argument over the proper way to pronounce 'naive.'
Silent, we sat there. All 15 of us- just kind of staring at these 4 people that seemed to be from another world, but were actually from across the street.
"What you got to say faggots?," one of the Others asked, chucking his beer can into the duck pond.
"You should recycle that," one of the girls in our group said.
The Others looked at us. They probably thought that recycle was some sort of automotive tool used on motorcycles.
All was quiet for a bit.
Then Kern, one of the frailer guys in our group said, "Is this an April Fool's joke?"
"What's that faggot?," one of Them asked.
"April Fool's! You know! April Fool's!." Kern replied in the most unthreatneing tone.
The Others didn't know what to think of this. They slowly walked away, drinking their cheap ass beer. The gal in their group clung to her denim purse and walked along side her man, who had his hand shoved in her backpocket.
Of course, we should have realized that it probably wasn't cool to hang around the duck pond anymore. We should have just gotten out of there. But we went and played on the swings and smoked cigarettes instead. Except me. I didn't smoke, but I did swing like an addict.
About an hour passed and everything was cool. We regrouped again at the pavillion and made plans to move on over to Murrell's, our favorite restaurant.
That's when it happened. Out of no where one of the Others just came running up to one us screaming "Mother Fucking faggots! Who the fuck called my brother a fucking asshole?"
None of us had a chance to answer because the guy just went straight to Satori and started pounding him. Satori was probably an easy target because he had on his silver lamet pants. But he wasn't gay. He was just fashionable. The guy just started pounding Satori.. which sucked because Satori had just gotten out of the hospital after having stomach surgery. About four of my gang ran up to the guy and was trying to pry him off when the 2 other others came into the mix and started hitting anyone they could- except the girls. Jankowski- another guy in our group, was on crutches due to an accident in a fencing tournament- but one of the assholes punch him in the head. "Fat ass faggot- if you weren't on crutches you'd be dead.." one of the Other guys said.
I just kind of stood there, shocked at what was going on. My group scattered- half ran to the cars, the other half remained behind because we were either A) Getting our asses kicked or B) Trying to stop the Assholes from kicking our asses.
Next to the pavillion, two of the Others had taken themselves to beating up Kern. Kern was on the ground, getting kicked, punched, whatever. My best friend Jen was pulling one of the guys off of him screaming, "Sarah! Oh my God! Sarah!" This was a smart move by Jen, as the Hicks instantly stopped their beating ways and said, "Oh shit. We beat up a girl." And They took off. Of course, Kern was not a girl, but he had long luxurious hair, so one could see where it would be easy to mistake his gender.
Satori and Jankowski made it back to the cars on their own.
A couple of peeps in my group just lingered on the perifery, most likely writing poems in their heads or analyzing human nature..
I, on the other hand, would not just stand by. I had to take action. My friends were getting their asses kicked.
So what did I do?
I walked over to the girlfriend of one of the Hicks. She was just standing their, clutching her purse, biting her lower lip, not doing anything to encourage Them, but not doing anything to stop Them, either.
She was my Prey. I attacked in the only way I knew how.
"Wow. You're a real lucky gal to have a boyfriend that drinks beer and then kicks other people's asses."
She was silent, but she was listening to me. I had full eye contact.
"You know what's the best part about being the girlfriend of a guy like that? The way he'll smell when he comes home after a good ass kicking. The way that you'll get to wash the blood off of his shirt. The way that you'll have to wonder if he's driving home drunk again. You got yourself a catch there. A real fine catch."
The girl's grip tightened on her denim purse. I was getting to her. I had found her weak spot. I was drilling into it with every bit of truth that I was spewing out.
"I feel really sorry for you." I said.
This is what got her. She flinched. I had cracked her. I went in for the kill.
"Really really sorry for you."
That was my KO. Her self esteem was shattered. I had hit the sweet spot in her mind that knew that everything I was saying was true.
I walked away. But, I wasn't done.
Turning over my shoulder I said, "..and that's a real nice purse. Denim. Yeah. Real nice."
She was down and out for the count.
That's when I went to Jen and Kern, who were in the midst of discussing if Kern should get stitches in his mouth, because the Assholes had punched his lip so hard that one of his teeth went through. They decided against it, as the bleeding started to subside.
Later, after we had all collected at Murrell's to check on each other's conditions, we each gave our own version of what had just happened. For the majority of us- it was our first fight. We were all very pissed, but all very excited about the details and who said what and who ran and who got their ass kicked.
When I told them that I dissed the girlfriend, I actually got a bit of lip from some of them. "Way to go, Ladeeleroy. Way to help us out.." was heard in the most sarcastic tone.
But you know what? They don't know what I did. For that brief moment, I ruined that girl's opinion of herself. I kicked her Dignity right in the ass. Yeah, she might have not been hitting us or calling us "Fucking Faggots," but she didn't do ANYTHING to stop Them either. And maybe, maybe in that one night, she felt so awful about herself that her boyfriend the hick wasn't able to convince her to blow him. So he fell asleep with blue balls and bad beer breath while she sat next to him in bed, eyes wide open, wondering what the hell she was doing in her life and hearing my words over and over again in her head.
And that, my friends, is the way I fight.