When we lived in Utah, there was a kid named Damian. He was a piece of crap, but we didn’t have a lot of friends. I don’t remember if he was spoiled or if he was just a stupid bully. There was a 3 or 4 swing set in the little park that we would play on and practice jumping high, low, backwards, standing up swings and jumps, and all sorts of other fun things. One day I think it was 4 of us: myself, Brad, a friend, and Damian. I was swinging on the outside, my friend in the middle, then Damian. I am not sure if Brad was swinging or not, or maybe he was the one in the middle. Damian got mad at whoever was in the middle. He got off his swing and threw it as hard as he could to the side to hit the middle person, but they bailed off the swing and he missed. I looked over just in time for it to smash into my head. The metal ring that holds the chain to the rubber part of the seat barely missed hitting me directly in my right eye. Instead, it hit my eyebrow and the bone under the eyebrow. It cut me wide open.
All I could see was red running down into my eye and I know I was crying. Our step-dad was walking through the park coming home from work when it happened, so he took me home and then to the hospital and they stitched it closed. I don’t know how many stitches it was, but now I have a little scar in that eyebrow. I don’t think any adult ever did anything about Damian. I know if it were you I would have beaten that kid’s ass and then probably his parents as well just for raising a piece of crap kid. Oh well, I won’t pretend that I was a good kid, so maybe everyone figured I deserved it.
Damian always used to want to fight everyone. He would do this crazy windmilling of his arms and charge at you. Of course, that wouldn’t work in a real fight, but none of us had ever really fought so we were kind of scared and never fought him. One day Brad said that the next time he did it he was just going to kick him right in the stomach. That would keep Brad’s face away from the windmilling arms and put his foot underneath them and into his belly. We thought it was a great idea.
Well that day came pretty soon. Damian got mad about something and started yelling and swinging his arms around. I backed up and he moved toward Brad. Brad just kicked straight up… and nailed him right in his nuts. And then he kicked him again, right in the privates. And again. I don’t know how many times it happened, but Damian wasn’t fighting after that! I think Brad must have kicked him 4 times or more. Damian never did that again and Brad was a superhero! I asked him why he didn’t kick him in the stomach like he said and he told me that he tried, but he misjudged the kick and hit him in the nuts. So, he tried to kick him the belly again, and again… and just kept missing. As much as you shouldn’t kick someone there, that kid deserved it and it taught him a valuable lesson: Someone is always stronger than you. He found out that day and it’s still funny to me to think of him getting kicked in the nuts over and over.
Love,
Fazia