Fat Matt

I was walking home one cool autumn day when I turned onto a long narrow street not far from where I lived. I had once seen some tough looking punks bullying some little kids on this street a while back and was always afraid that I would meet up with them again. And sure enough, this day I would. I was almost near the end of this long street when three big kids turned the corner. Just by looking at them you could tell they were sixth graders, you could just see it in their eyes. Two of the kids were about equal in size, I didn’t get their name. But the third kid, the leader of the pack, was huge. He stood at least five feet tall and probably weighed one-hundred and thirty pounds. His name was Matt. I call him Fat Matt in my head. He wasn’t all that fat, he was built more like a football lineman. I knew I was in trouble. I started to cross to the other side of the street but they quickly intercepted my path. “Where do you think you’re going?” Matt demanded. “Home” I stammered. “I don’t think so,” said Matt. Then it happened. Matt’s sidekicks each grabbed one of my arms and held them out to the side. “Uh oh” I thought. This was the ultimate bully pummeling position. I was a goner. Matt started to crack his knuckles with an evil smirk on his face. And then something came over me. I wasn’t going to let this happen. Adrenaline surged through my veins and I felt very strong all of a sudden. With my newfound strength and courage I thrust my arms out, grabbing both of Matt’s sidekicks by the neck. I swung both of them in towards me, clashing their skulls against each other. They fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Matt’s look of astonishment on his face was quickly replaced by a look of pain as I shattered his nose with my fist. “You...you broke my nose!” Matt screamed. “I’m going to kill you!” “Not today” I thought as I kicked him in the balls. Fat Matt slammed to the ground and lay beside his two friends. I stood over them for a few seconds, admiring my work. And then I ran as fast as I could. I ran all the way home. When I got home I was so excited. I called my friends and went over to their house. Incredibly enough, once I had finished the story my friends weren’t all that happy for me. “You’re proud of the fact that you beat up three sixth graders?” my friend Chris asked. “Of course” I responded. “But you’re twenty four years old.” he said. They just didn’t get it. Yes this happened just two weeks ago. But much like slaying an evil dragon, taking down a sixth grade bully is an incredible accomplishment no matter what your age is. Fuck you Fat Matt. I hope your balls are brused and hurt for weeks.