NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF 'MAMA'

There has been a  lot of discussion in the media about bullying. I've got a news flash. This isn't new, it's been going on a long time. Probably since we were squatting at a fire in a cave. The following story is true. I have changed the names not to protect people, but because it happened some fifty years ago and I can't remember them. The fact, that I remember the incident demonstrates how traumatic it can be. There is a silver lining though.

Copyright 2014 by Andy H. Sweet

I recall a bright sunny day. One of those following a rain storm. The air was crisp, steam rising from the pavement, puddles everywhere. I was returning home from school, empty "Lone Ranger" lunch box in one hand, a satchel in the other, avoiding the large deeper pools of collected rain, but taking joy in splashing through the little-shallow-ones.

So intent I was in my frolic, I failed to notice the large boy leaning against the wall of the abandoned building I was passing.

Until he spoke. "Come here boy."

I looked up from the small puddle I had just smashed, pointed at my chest like... who, me?

"Yeah, you. Do you see anyone else around?"

Of course I looked around. Ascertained there was indeed, no one else, returned my attention to him and again, offered my quizzical look.

He slid from his repose against the wall, placed his hands on his hips. "If I have to come get you, I'll break your fucking arm."

I hadn't ever heard that word before, but it sounded mean. Reluctant is not a fair representation of my approach. It was akin to a doomed man walking to the gallows.

In what seemed an eternity, I was face to face with him. Actually more like face to chest. He had to be a couple of heads taller than I. "What do you want?" My voice trembled and was so low, I was sure he couldn't have heard.

He pitched his head back and howled. It was the worst sound I'd ever heard. Then, snapped his fist out to my nose. It wasn't that hard of a hit, but it stung and brought tears to my eyes. My nose felt wet, I rubbed the back of my hand across it, and looked. No blood.

Then, he grabbed the lapels of my yellow rain coat and lifted me up. "You ready for some fun, boy?" Before I could utter a response he tossed me back. I dropped my lunch box and satchel, hit the pavement hard and I'm pretty sure, peed my pants.

There was a large can, square, most likely it had been run over, for it was squashed in the middle. He pointed toward it. "Get up sissy. Go fetch me that can." I got up, tears were falling now, but I didn't cry out. At least I managed to quell that. I waded out into the small pond, feeling the cold water creep up past my ankles.

When I returned with the prize, a look of anger flashed across his hideous face. "Look what you did. You bent it." He walked over to my lunch box and stomped on it. Did some damage, stooped, picked it up and opened it. He took the "Lone Ranger" thermos out. "Hey...I've been wanting one of these." He tossed the box to the ground and resumed his stomping. In minutes it was flatter than a pancake.

"Thanks punk." he said, strolled away, my thermos in hand, whistling a tune. I picked up my demolished lunch box and dropped it in a barrel at the corner of the building. Wiped my eyes and headed home.

This went on for three days, some more rain fell. There was no other feasible route home. I tried delaying my journey from school, but he was there. One day I didn't see him, but when I passed the corner, he stepped out. I ran, but he easily caught me.

My mom, of course noticed the absence of my lunch box. I told her I lost it and of course was punished with no TV that day. I protested, told her I hated this place and wanted to move. "What's wrong honey?" she asked. I wouldn't tell her, just went to my room and endured. Mom was great though. She didn't tell my father. Losing something like that would surely have meant a whipping.

My friend, Russel, was a big boy too. On the third day, I told him my trouble. His response was typical. He wasn't a bully, but didn't back down from a fight. Until that day.

Seeing the two boys next to each other may have been my first introduction to relativity. Objects can look the same size until you put them side by side. Russel looked like a dwarf compared to the bully. 

"I'm glad you brought a friend," the bully jeered. "You left the can out of the puddle, Red. I'd rather be dead,than red on the head. Your friend can go put it back."

Russell complied. I was sorry I had dragged him into this. Our tormentor had a piece of hard rubber tubing. He handed it to my friend. "Your buddy needs a whippin'."

I leaned in close to Russell and whispered. "Go ahead and hit me hard. Maybe that will make him happy." I bent over and received several respectable licks. My butt was stinging and a little anger was starting to grow, somewhere deep, hidden inside me.

"Boy, I didn't tell you to whip him hard. Did I? Did I?" He snatched the hose from Russell and handed it to me.

"Lay it on him, Red. Hard. If you don't, then you get it from me!"

The ember of fury fanned to a flame. I felt a flush explode to my face. My hands clenched, mouth twisted into a gnarly grimace. Then, I exploded.

"If you don't leave us alone, I'm gonna tell my MAMA!" My voice was a roar, all the indignation and humility poured out with authority and power.

The bully's eyes widened and fear swashed across his face. "No...hey...you don't have to do that."

"I will, I'll tell her!" There was no trembling in my voice, no trepidation. I was adamant.

"No...please...I'll bring your thermos back. I'll do anything. Just don't tell her." He was whining, pitiful really. I actually felt sorry for him.

Russell took the hose from me and turned to the boy. "You'll do anything?"

"Yes, anything."

"Okay..." Russell said, a grin breaking out on his face "...bend over."

The End