the joy of rioting, or, adventures in violence and stupidity, part 2 (671 hits)
Category: GeneralLabels: nonfiction
Rating: 0.2 on 21 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by scourgeoftheseas (View user info) at 2005-11-07 17:19:21 EST
(fairly long)
The ability to properly hold a grudge is a dying artform. You should be able to build a giant head of anger over an incident that happened years in the past, no matter how small of a slight, or you are just not doing it right.
The incident started with a game of basketball.
On my team were myself, a sociopath with the inability to experience empathy (read; my friend) and the various people left over from the whole picking teams process. The fat girl who always fucks up, the smart kid with glasses who always fucks up, and the stoned kid who never fucks up because he doesn't try to begin with(this last was sometimes me). An all around good crew. These are the type of people who won't mind the way that I want to play.
I hated high school gym class. My idea of how to play basketball was to see how hard and far I could hit or kick the ball. Bonus points were awarded if it managed to wound someone. This was also how you played volleyball, badminton, tennis, American football, and soccer. I was informed that if I tried to play bowling this way, I would not be allowed to play at all.
The people who WOULD mind the way I wanted to play were on the other team. Three members of the basketball team and two soccer players. One of these individuals in specific didn't approve. He was a kid who had always attended school with me. Started out as a normal little G.I. Joe playing suburban white boy, but by high school had somehow transformed into a true super thug.
Now he had gold chains, that nice cut of pant that says "look at me, I shit myself!" lines shaved into his head in weird patterns, other odd stuff. He even had a gold tooth.
Thinking himself to be a ...you know what, I don't fucking know what he thought he was. What he was, was a goddamn persona instead of a person. This behavior annoys me... Anyway, being a stone cold thug, this was his game, his ticket. Honest to God, he told us we needed to "respect the game".
His disapproval of our method of play was met with an instantaneous shit-storm of both physical and verbal abuse. Constant harassment for the next forty minutes. Body checking and all, he just couldn't seem to stay on his feet. I guess the last straw was when it bounced off the back of his head. I did hate that patterns shaved in the head thing.
Afterwards we're laughing about the whole incident, when around the corner comes MC Tupac Lite. He didn't even stop. Just turned the corner, popped my friend in the eye, turned around and ran like hell. Maybe two seconds.
My buddy claimed it didn't even hurt. No bruise. The kid was moving so fast that he couldn't get a good swing. Hell, I thought my friend had it coming. All's fair. He was the one who hit him in the head with the ball. Still, revenge was necessary.
We always played craps between two parked cars, as school administration didn't like gambling on school property. It took about three weeks, but who happens to walk by our game? He didn't even see us until he was right on top of us. Why, hello there super thug, your luck just ran out.
I don't pause to say a word, just pop right up, grab the little bastard, slam him against the nearest car and crack him about four good times. When he falls he gets a little boot party. The score has been settled, the end.
A week later, my younger brother is sitting in our car after school with two of his friends, waiting on me. About fifteen of them come around the corner, spot him and zoom in. They start talking shit.
"Tell your brother he's dead"...blah blah, we're a bunch of badasses-type shit.
My younger brother answers with the appropriate response,"Fuck you."
BLAM. Right through the open window. Smashed his nose. The same kid I had slammed into the car was the guilty party. Once again my brother follows the proper protocol and flings open the door ready to try and stomp someone. It's probably much better for him that they ran as soon as he got hit. Fifteen to three, not such good odds.
The end of the next day, as I leave school prison, where I've been banished for slapping the little shit around, I start down the hallway to the parking lot. Coming up the path directly in front of me are four of the badasses.
As they approach, they begin to laugh, so naturally I start laughing, because I just know that the funniest thing you could think of has to be getting ready to happen. They must have told a great joke. Maybe they will let me in on it! Just as I am about even with the four of them, I drop my bag with the sudden realization that there was no joke, I decided that perhaps they were even having a chuckle at my or my brother's expense. Well, since my arms were no longer burdened by the weight of my schoolbooks, and I don't want to waste the good laugh that I had going, I reach out and slap the living shit out of the one who had broken my brothers nose, never once stopping my laughter.
This is the best bitch slap that I have ever had the pleasure to deliver. The school I attended was a turn of the century monstrosity, it looked more like a kid factory than a school, a very foreboding ugly thing. The halls were lined with that ugly beige tile all the way up to the 15 foot ceiling. I slapped this guy so hard that there was an echo. His head did that beautiful thing where it snaps to one side hard enough to cause whiplash. When he turned back to me the mark on his face wasn't red or pink, it was purple, and growing.
I don't stop laughing or walking. I know that I can't fight four people and win.
I hit the car lot where a whole crew of folks was waiting for me. There were maybe fifteen of us. One of my friends even terminated his employment as a sandwich artist to come be part of the fun.
As I am standing there, letting them in on the slapping episode we look up to see maybe forty people come around the side of the building. He brought his entire roster of teammates with him as well as some assorted thugs and yahoos.
Hot damn this was going to be fun.
The situation unfolded really quickly. Someone started up talking shit, got blindsided, and the next thing you know they had a pile of other humans on top of them, and not in the good way. Fortunately this was not me.
Someone driving by got so caught up watching the festivities they rear ended the car in front of them, setting off the horn of their smashed vehicle.
As I watched the people administering beatings to one another I began to giggle. I had been the cause of this mayhem. In my own way I had been able to wreak some havoc in the world, and I liked it.
The horn blaring in the background. People trying to seriously harm each other, some for no other reason than that their friends asked them to.
Punching and kicking and bleeding, oh my.
It was a happy little dance of violence and naughtiness.
I felt like a little Devil surveying his own personal Hell.
The school security guards just threw their hands up in disgust. They called the cops instead, giving the whole thing time to play out appropriately. There was a ring of maybe 200 people surrounding the whole mess. One vice principal and two teachers, tried to stop some of it, and were quickly drawn into the fray themselves. Beauty surrounded me.
Over the top of the pile of folks who had been among those in the initial outlash, I spotted my little bruised friend from the slapping incident. A hop and jump over the pile and I was face to face with him.
He turned to try and run. No shit. Before he was halfway around I punched him right in the middle of the already painful looking bruise that covered about a third of his face. His knees buckled and he finished turning just as he hit the ground.
At the end of it all, the lead security guard/ head basketball coach dragged his swollen faced player up to me.
"What did you do to him? What did you do to him?" Screaming in my face, it reminded me of really poor dialogue from some Lifetime special movie about spousal abuse.
You can do everything right all your whole life, fuck up once, and that's all people are going to remember you for. You are either all good or all bad. I had nothing to lose.
I just shrugged, flicked my cigarette at his coach jacket and went for the gold. "Maybe you should kiss it and make it all better. Bitch."
He stopped breathing for a minute so he could turn purple, shook his head and turned to Bloody McBruisington. "What did he do to you Sean?"
At this point, I know I'm fucked if he spills, so I just smiled and waited for him to talk, trying to calculate exactly how to hit him over the shoulder of his protector in a mannerthat will cause the most facial reconstructive surgery to be required.
And then the Gods showed me favor. I'm back in the Lifetime movie.
He looks at me, turns his head down and says, "I ran into my locker door."
I only wish I had been wearing a spaghetti stained wife-beater and three days of scrubby beard growth.
User Reviews
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-07-26 13:41:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
It must suck to get only 584 hits per post.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-07-26 13:28:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
summon chaos!
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-05-18 13:02:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-10-31 22:40:55 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
I've had it up to here with your shennanigans, I'm going through and -2ing ALL of your posts!
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-27 14:30:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I LOVE MYSELF!!
SIGNED,
SCOURGEY
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-27 13:55:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-10-27 13:39:58 (#)
Ranking: -2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/95020#2202073
banning attempt
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-01 20:28:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-05-01 20:11:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hi, slappy.
Submitted by minimumdino (user info) at 2006-01-11 19:50:22 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
i love how when i post a lot of these negative ratings you tell me thanks for the hit buddy and give me a +2 haha
Submitted by bonnee (user info) at 2005-11-09 00:02:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I believe you...because I know it is true
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-11-08 18:48:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
rock rock rock rock rock and roll high school...
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2005-11-08 16:11:01 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
As for the death of the little people, I'm mostly Kraut, but I have a fair sized chunk of Irish to me as well; this is the part that writes, drinks, humps and generally has a good time. Because of this Blarney side I would never allow meself to cause the death of a wee leprechaun. Thats all the proof you need.
Jack, I certainly appreciate the continued support. ozzy, many thanks to you as well.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-11-08 14:58:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
believable or not, great story, well written and funny. i choose to believe it is true, else somewhere a leprechaun will die.
Submitted by ozzy (user info) at 2005-11-08 11:43:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"Guys code" dictated that he couldn't squeal.
Why the fuck has this got minus 2's? Although long, it was an easy read and was entertaining.
Fuck them scourge, you keep writing and I'll keep reading.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2005-11-08 09:45:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Hookhand (user info) at 2005-11-08 01:40:45 (#)
Ranking: -2
Really believable! Honest! If you are telling the truth, I hate you even more.
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See comment below, add the following additional fun and you have a custom built response for Hookhand:
The thing is, there is no way for me to prove and no way for you to disprove that what I write is true. Just because you don't think that this is plausible based off of what you know about me... Oh that's right you don't know me.
In that case I guess you decide whether something is believable based off of whether or not you would engage in the activity. With that as the determining factor for plausibility I hope that everyone only posts about sitting in their mommy's basement, spanking it to bestiality porn while crying for their daddy to stop touching their dirty place, or else you are going to be spending a lot of time calling bullshit on other people.
Go write some more bullshit about har har this or har har that, jackass.
Submitted by Hookhand (user info) at 2005-11-08 01:40:45 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Really believable! Honest! If you are telling the truth, I hate you even more.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2005-11-07 20:58:45 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2005-11-07 19:33:41 (#)
Ranking: 2
are you french?
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No, why?
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2005-11-07 20:55:46 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2005-11-07 20:33:44 (#)
Ranking: -2
I dont mind bullshit, but this seems carefully calculated to make me hate you. Im happy to oblige.
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Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2005-11-07 19:39:13 (#)
Ranking: -2
BS
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Well, I certainly have a deep need to impress strangers on the Internet. Now I feel as though I have failed the two of you. May I offer you both a big fat bowl of who-the-fuck-cares-what-you-believe to make up for it?
Everything I post here is true. Get fucked.
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2005-11-07 20:33:44 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
I dont mind bullshit, but this seems carefully calculated to make me hate you. Im happy to oblige.
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2005-11-07 19:39:13 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
BS
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2005-11-07 19:33:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
are you french?