December 11, 2002

The Playground Bully "You're out!"

The Playground Bully

"You're out!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Tony started to swagger across the dodgeball battlefield to confront his vocal naysayer, and the game stopped instantly. Both sides quieted to a dull murmer as Tony made his way to the shivering youth who had the audacity to claim that big Tony Masters, scourge of the playground, the only fourth grader who had to shave before going out for noon recess, was out.

"Who you calling out, faggot?" Tony growled as he grabbed Scott by the neck and administered a body blow with his right hand, a soft punch by Tony standards, because he was feeling generous that day. Also, the school monitor, Mrs. Thompson, was dangerously nearby, administering to a scraped knee, apparently unaware of the bullying taking place not more than 40 feet away.

Scott crumpled into a quivering mound on the cold, hard autumn ground, gasping for breath as Tony stepped heavily on his right calf. Scott would have screamed out in pain had he not been out of air.

"Game on!" yelled Tony as he made his way back to his dodgeball team, and the game commenced with no one daring to throw a ball at Tony or catch one of his powerful hurls lest they suffer poor Scott's fate, who was now sitting on the sidewalk blubbering uncontrollably with drool pitifully running down the sides of his mouth.

The game continued for about five minutes, when suddenly big Tony let out a terrific shriek of pain. Once again, play stopped abruptly, and all eyes turned toward Tony who was gripping his left shoulder in agony.

"Who threw that walnut?!" he howled. "Who the hell threw that walnut?! I'll kill whoever it was! I'll kill . . ." But his threat was cut short as yet another walnut came cruising from out of nowhere, crashing into Tony's forehead and exploding in a spray of sweet smelling yellow pulp. Tony, his feet firmly planted, toppled directly backward like a felled tree.

Now sporting a fresh bleeding cut in the direct center of his forehead, and his vision somewhat blurred by the projectile attack, Tony staggered to his feet while his schoolyard peers looked on not knowing what to do. Well, except for the recently abused Scott, that is. He knew exactly what to do.

Scott ran over to the disoriented bully, wiped the blood from his forehead using his own sleeve, and asked if Tony was okay. Tony nodded and said he would be fine in a little bit.

"Good," said Scott, putting his hands softly on Tony's shoulders. "Then I don't feel bad doing this."

With that, Scott mustered all his tiny yet determined strength and kneed Tony forcefully in the groin. The wounded giant let out a mournful wail and collapsed to his knees, and little Scott kicked him in the ribs for good measure, a slight smile of intense satisfaction gracing his still tear-streaked face.

With that, the rest of the playground congregation, realizing they now all had a golden moment to reap revenge for all of Tony's past wrongs, lined up to administer their own punishment. Some children spit, others kicked, while still others just looked on pointing and calling him names.

Nearby, Mrs. Thompson continued comforting the youth with the scraped knee, oblivious, but not really, to the long-overdue schoolyard revenge taking place during her watch. She patted the little girl she was caring for on the head and sent her on her way. The child smiled broadly and laughed before picking up her jumprope and happily skipped away.

Mrs. Thompson then continued her careful monitoring of the playground, all the while smiling and rolling three walnuts over and over again in her pocket.

Posted by Ryan at December 11, 2002 12:04 PM
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