One time, when I was really little, like in first grade, there was this guy who was not only bigger than be but older, and he used to pick on me. When I told my dad he told me I should tell the teacher. I was little, so I listened and I told her; for some reason, this bitch decided it wasn't that important that some guy was taking my stuff and throwing it in the trash/mud/ dirt. I told my dad again, and this time, he told me to tell the guy I was going to tell... I didn't want to because I would look like a wimp but I did it anyway and then told the teacher.
Once again, she decides that I'm really not that important and doesn't do jack shit to help me. I go to my dad, crying and tell him:
"Dad, he threw my stuff in the mud again! And the teacher won't listen and I really don't want to get my stuff dirty again! What do I do?"
" You told the teacher?"
"Yes."
"Twice?"
"Yes."
"And you told the kid you were going to tell on him?"
"... Yes."
"Okay, here's what you do. You hold your hand like this, your palm sticking out and your fingers curled in so it's not a slap, and you hit him with your palm right on the nose. Upward, and hard. Make sure you break it. Then, you punch him, and you push him. Hard. Okay?"
"But dad, I'll get in trouble..."
"Don't you worry about that. Tell them to call me if they get you in trouble, okay?"
So little me went to school the next day, telling my best and only friend how scared I was to get in trouble. She asked if I was scared of the guy, and I told her no, I was more scared of getting in trouble. Lunch time rolls around and I'm sitting there eating my lunch on the second floor by the classroom with my best friend when the guy and his friends come around.
"What do you have there?" he laughs, like he's funny for asking about my lunch or something.
haha PB&J. lol.
I don't say anything and he takes this chance to take my lunch and throw it down to the first floor where it hits some girl in the head, ruining her hair. I stand up as his friends grab my backpack.
"Stop it, tell them to put my stuff down." I say.
He laughs nodding his head at his friends who react by throwing my backpack in the trash.
Trembling, I walk up to him, my hands balled into small fists. He cocks his head to the side, studying me. Without a second thought, I drive my palm into his nose, causing him to step back toward the steps. I follow.
"I told you to STOP!" I yell as I punch him on the jaw and push him as hard as I can.
He fell down the steps and broke his arm, his nose broken and his jaw bruised. I was taken to the principle's office by the teacher who refused to do anything to help me and I told them to call my dad, that he told me to do it. My dad showed up and had a private discussion with the principle. When my dad came out I rushed up to him and asked:
"Dad! Am I in trouble?"
He laughed, shaking his head, "No, but the teacher is fired. You threw him down the stairs?"
my cheeks burned, "I..."
"Nice!" he chuckled.
I furrowed my brow, confused.
Later, I found out that the kid who bullied me had a dad who was involved in narcotic business and that's why the teacher didn't want to do anything. But, I mean, I'm fine and I punched this kid out. Broke his nose and his arm, too, and his dad didn't do anything.
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The End
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