Do You Know How to Fight? – Part 4

 

It matters, you know.

I found out the hard way.

But before we go any further, this being a multi-part series, let me direct you newcomers to parts 1, 2, and 3…

Just scroll down and you'll see them! :)

And now, part 4 of, “Do You Know How to Fight?”

I said we’d “go live” today. Did you prepare? I hope so, because that’s coming up in just a moment. First, I’m sure you’re all wondering what happened with Shawn.

Well, I’m not gonna lie to you—I woke up for school the next day with a pit in my stomach that felt like I’d swallowed a sleeve of golf balls. No matter what I did, or how much I tried not to think about it, the golf balls were there to stay. So, learning to adapt to the new reality that I might tee up a second viewing of my breakfast at any moment (an interesting offensive weapon in and of itself) I otherwise calmly resigned myself to Operation Whoop Shawn—set for 0700.

I had 30 minutes to shower, eat (never mind that), dress, practice my moves, and get to school.

It was on!

I knew that the 0700 rendezvous might not happen, and that I was more likely to have to wait for Operation Bloody Recess at the playground drop zone, set for 1300 (That’s 1:00 pm for you non Navy Seal types). But I walked to school like a Green Beret anyway. About half the time, I would see Shawn walking to school in the morning as well, and the fun would always start early on those days. Truth be told—I was hoping to get this over with before school even began. If it went my way, I’d have the entire day to gloat. If not? I couldn’t even think of that. Failure was not an option.

The walk seemed to take forever that day, and there were (sadly) no Shawn sightings. Operation Whoop Shawn was now a part of my past (pretty dramatic, huh?) and all my focus shifted to the unavoidable, Operation Bloody Recess. People would get hurt this day. Perhaps lots of people. There could be collateral damage as well if my anger turned all Hulk like as it had with my uncle the day before. I couldn’t concern myself with that now—it’s all a part of battle. Warfare is ugly. We all knew what we were signing up for when…

Sorry, I got a little carried away. Where was I?

Oh yeah, recess. The clock stare off began in homeroom and neither I nor the clock blinked even once as we waited for high noon, or 1300, but high noon sounds better. Am I right?

Was there a power outage? The clocks all seemed frozen. No, I had just entered a parallel universe where minutes take weeks and weeks take years. So be it. It wasn’t the first time I’d been here. I could handle anything life threw at me this day. As far as I was concerned, the outcome was predetermined.

Unfortunately, so was the sick day for Shawn. He wasn’t at school.

So much for Rambo the invincible.

Back to Operation Whoop Shawn.

Next day was a repeat of the day before—top-flight, golf ball stomach and all. Shawn was missing from the walk to school again as well. I was actually beginning to relax a little bit by the time I got through homeroom and entered the hallway to get to my first class. That was until I bumped right into Shawn.

“Hey, Wimpleton! Watch where you’re going or the beatings will start early for you today!" He and his friends must have thought they were on stage at Comedy Central the way they laughed at that one. I just stared back at them in bewilderment. Was that really a joke? I thought. I guess I just don’t get it. But one thing I did pick up on—I wasn’t afraid. Seriously, I had no fear. I could already see this thing playing out hours before hand. I’d already cleared the first hurdle—the confidence hurdle. Recess couldn’t get here soon enough.

At lunch I sat at the medic table reserved for nerds and smaller kids bred just for the purpose of being sparing partners for the elite gladiators. But this day it didn’t even bother me as I fueled up on a carefully prepared, pre-battle meal consisting of a peanut butter sandwich and 2 twinkies. Normally I would only have one twinkie, but today I needed the extra edge the Hostess, cream filled food of top athletes everywhere was sure to give me.

Bottomline? I was ready.

When the bell rang, I headed for the playground with the rest of the expendables. We looked at each other with a sort of mutual respect. Each day could be the last for any one of us, and we knew it. Today, they all seemed to have a heightened awareness that it could be me.

Again, so be it. No turning back now.

In seconds I made my way to the monkey bars—a kind of holding pen for misfits and geeks before they were forced into the ring to face the lions. The fleeting thought occurred to me that I didn’t have to take this. Why wait here everyday like I was punching the clock at General Motors? I made a mental note that this would be the last day I spent here as well.

After I’d made my peace, and reminded myself of who would get my valuables once the autopsy was completed and cause of death determined, I pushed all negative thoughts from my mind and looked up to see Shawn and his primitive posse of yes men approaching right on schedule.

“What’s up, Wimpleton?” I just sat there. I already knew the drill. “You blind and deaf?” he continued. “Cause this is my area and I don’t think I want you here. So beat it.” He laughed. However, when I didn’t get right up and leave like every previous occasion, he seemed to reconsider. It was one thing to trip me on the way by, or to punch me when I wasn’t looking, but this was unchartered territory for him.

“You hear me?” He asked again, looking at me as if it were the first time he’d ever seen me.

“Yep,” I answered as casually as I could.

That really threw him. I could see the wheels turning. Hmm, he seemed to be thinking. He heard me, saw me, has been beat numerous times by me, and yet, there he sits. What am I supposed to do with this?

I almost felt sorry for him, so I helped make his decision a little easier. While he was working through possible scenarios in his head, I got up and walked to within 2 feet of him and just stood there.

“I’m not leaving Shawn. If you want to sit here, you can wait until I feel like leaving. Otherwise, you’re gonna have to make me.”

Okay, I admit, I wasn’t too proud of that last line. Talk about old and overused. But it was pretty tough sounding in it’s day and I’ll bet anyone reading this over 40 has said it themselves so quit judging!

Ok, back to the story.

Shawn was stumped, but he was far from finished. He still had one trick up his sleeve.

“Hey look everyone! Robby Wimpleton is getting all tough now!”

“What did you call me?!” I growled, my fists coming up and the rest of me assuming the fighting stance my uncle had taught me. My blood was boiling. I HATED being called Robby! I might have even mentioned that a time or two—not sure, I’ll have to go back and check the previous posts in the series. Wimpleton I could handle, but for some reason, Robby drove me crazy. I became absolutely unglued every time I heard it. And now was no exception.

“Take it easy, man. I was just joking.” Shawn reacted nervously. “I don’t feel like messing with you nerds today anyway.” He turned to walk away. Only problem was, a crowd had gathered and one of his normally mild-mannered posse began making a chicken noise and snickering, something about ‘one more nerd in the herd shouldn’t upset the delicate ecosystem of the Katella playground...' Least that’s how I remember it until I recall that we were all 10 year olds and not even capable of thinking that sophisticated. We were still trying to master lines like, “I know you are, but what am I?” So there’s little chance I’ve got perfect recall here.

And alas, there’s little chance I’m going to be able to finish this today as I thought. It’s almost midnight!

Sorry, but the conclusion and spiritual tie in will have to wait until next time.