Adam blogged about a neighborhood bully and drawing a parallel to the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah.
Although I try to stay informed, I'm so past blogging about politics and world events.
However, I don't mind blogging about mind-numbingly boring things like this kid I beat the hell out of when I was a little girl.
When we first moved into the neighborhood, we moved in across the street from the *Johnson's.
Later, we ended up buying the house next door to them.
But, quickly, my parents became friends with the Johnsons. They had 3 kids: a boy my age and two young girls.
There was Big *Billy, the dad, so to differentiate between Billys, we called his son, LITTLE Billy.
Now, I can imagine that having the word "Little" precede your name is enough to make any boy angry but Little Billy had some major problems.
He was a little shithead.
He had pretty much fought (and lost) everyone in the neighborhood and I never really thought I'd be at the receiving end of his shitheadedness because he was deathly afraid of my father.
However, walking home from school one afternoon, I guess he had run out of kids to mess with so he started on me.
I wasn't an idiot. I knew it wouldn't take much to make Little Billy cry. I had seen him cry on numerous occasions when someone bigger or smarter in the neighborhood had him in a headlock. So, after two blocks of being annoyed by Little Billy walking behind me, I calmly spun around and swung my very heavy bookbag and caught him on the side of the head, knocking him and his glasses to the ground.
I simply turned around and kept walking.
I could hear Little Billy crying the rest of the way home.
Later his mom came over to inform my parents that I had broken her son's glasses.
I had already told my dad what happened because I thought it was hilarious and he's the one that taught me how to fight in the first place so I figured he'd get a kick out of it.
He did.
His reply to Little Billy's mom: "So? Sounds to me like he asked for it."
The Johnson's were forever borrowing shit from us. Hell, I bet to this day half of my dad's yard equipment and tools are in their garage.
On this one particular day, my job was to sweep the sidewalks and driveway after my dad did the yardwork.
The problem was, dad explained, the Johnson's had borrowed our big push broom and hadn't returned it.
So, I had to go across the street and retrieve our broom.
Little Billy was sitting in the garage, lying in wait.
"My dad wants our broom back, LITTLE Billy."
Surprisingly, he said nothing and just handed me the broom.
When I turned to walk back across the street, that dickless wonder jumped me from behind.
He was a fat little fucker and I was flattened in the driveway.
Man this pissed me off and I came up swinging.
I don't even remember if my eyes were open or not, I just started punching. He got my right fist right in the mouth and my left between the eyes and I believe another right in his nose because it started bleeding almost immediately.
That punch between his eyes broke his glasses...possibly either newly repaired or just new.
I left Little Billy, crying loudly in the driveway.
Later, Big Billy came over to inform my dad that once again, I had broken his son's glasses.
My dad said, "Yes, she did. I saw the whole thing. And if your son lays another hand on my daughter, I'm going to break his glasses too and then shove them up YOUR ass. Wanna beer?"
My dad and Big Billy drank a few beers and Little Billy never messed with me again.
Just the other day I saw Little Billy over at his parents' house when I was visiting my mother. He made a point to come over and speak to me. He's got a family now, you know...wife...kids...etc...
I wonder if he remembers how I kicked his ass when we were kids.
I wouldn't want to face him now, LITTLE Billy ain't so little anymore.
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