MY FIRST STREET FIGHT ... Six, I remember the apartment complex, I was six. It was the one we lived at when my father bolted, that’s how I remember the age. There wasn’t much to do around the neighborhood but stand around someone’s car and bullshit. I was the smallest boy there. This girl was all 1970’s, with long, brown hair, dark Texas skin. All us boys were loving her, she held court sitting on that car hood for sure. Out of nowhere this kid wants to start a fight with me. I couldn’t tell you why because I was the nicest kid around. I looked like a cute little church mouse if anything and here this bully is saying whatever he was saying in order to start a fight. I turned to walk away because it wasn’t in me to fight or anything and he calls me a chicken. Now remember, we were in the six to ten year old range here and at six no one calls me a chicken so I turn back around to meet him. Mom, thank God, I see my mom walking from across the street with a basket of cloths and my little sister tailing along like a little duckling. She’s going to stop this, I know it. “Mommy, mommy (Sabo) is going to get into a fight.” I hear my little sister say. Thank God, now she knows, she’ll come over here and this craziness will be over soon. “Baby, (Sabo) is a big boy and he can take care of himself”, I heard my mother tell my baby sister. She looked at me then turned her head and they walked upstairs. My heart dropped to my belly being left there with this bully on the street. I was on my own. I turned to walk away again and again he calls me a chicken. This time I turned and knock the shit out of him. A combination of anger, disappointment, the felling of abandonment and fear was coursing through my veins at my mom. He hit the ground. He got up. I turned to walk away, he calls me a chicken again. This time he turns to run so I chased. I landed a solid punch to his back and again he hit the ground. I vaguely remember this happening a third time at which point I felt sorry for the guy and turned and went home. I remember my older brother being there. We walked upstairs where my mother gave the family a speech about how strong I was as a boy. I hated those speeches. They embarrassed me. I don’t remember ever seeing that kid again. https://facebook/unsavoryagents/app_195066160634748
Posted on: Sun, 06 Oct 2013 05:31:30 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015