I thought it would be fun to get into as much detail as I can over the many facts I’ve posted about myself.
42. I have, however, been punched twice in the face and a number of times in the body, kicked in the face and hit with a shovel.
The two times I got punched were nothing really. Both times, it was someone younger than me. Both times, it was around an argument during sports. Both times, it didn’t hurt and I even smiled after the fact which only feeded the neighborhood talk that something was wrong with me.
The most memorable punch to the body was in 8th grade. I don’t remember the all the details because it was very long ago. Anyway, there was this kid Michael (tall, geeky, awkward) who was in my science class. We were all split up into groups working on something and my friend says, “Hey, look at Michael.” Michael was clearly playing with himself IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS NEXT TO HIS STUDY PARTNER WHO WAS OBLIVIOUS (Over the pants but still). Now, to us, this was about the funniest thing we had ever seen so we started telling everyone in class to watch him. So everyone in class was watching him go (he was in the front and we were all sitting in pairs behind him) stifling our laughter until he turns around, face completely red and we all bust out laughing.
Next day, during recess, I think I was playing handball and Michael comes up to me and punches in the shoulder. Of course, I’m like “What the fuck was that for?” and he said, “Why did you say that about me?” He chased me around the playground for about five minutes until I realized what he was talking about. Now, for the record, I was not the only one who told people what he was doing in Science class and I’m pretty sure I got thrown under the bus here. Anyway, in a moment I came to regret, instead of saying “Sorry” or denying it, I laughed and said, “But it’s true. Isn’t it?” By then, everyone could see what was going on. About 8-10 girls formed a protective circle around me to stop Michael from getting to me. Now this may give you the impression that I was popular but that was not the case. At this point in my elementary school career, I had found myself as the intermediary between the girls and the boys they liked (explained in The Kill Sean Club Part III) so they wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. I felt pretty safe with all the girls yelling at Michael so I had a huge smirk on my face. All of the sudden, Michael threw a punch and my circle of protection parted like the Red Sea and I took a shot straight to the chest. I hit the ground and my head hit the root of a tree. I ended up in the nurse’s office. The other guys in class wanted me to get him in trouble because he was the smartest kid but I didn’t bother. He apologized and that was that.
The “kicked in the face” story I told in The Kill Sean Club Part III: “Anytime it rained recess was held in the classroom where we would play board games or, if you were me, would try to do your homework in the closet (it makes more sense why I was chosen). Recess was usually in the presence of a teacher but sometimes, the teacher on duty would wander off to see some of the other teachers or go outside and smoke or cry about the futility of the future of our country after teaching some of these dumb kids. I went to the bathroom and when I returned, the teacher was gone. Suddenly, I am being pelted by game board pieces. I am in the front of the class and I am dodging Monopoly thimbles and Life cars. Someone pushes me against the blackboard and I fall down and Matthew Donahue, one of those kids who was too young to know that his deep hatred for black people was called “racism”, after taking a running start, kicked me in the eye. He didn’t get a good shot because I moved my head with the kick, protecting my glasses more than my face. But it was hard enough that the girls took notice. Two of them carried me to the nurse and the rest told off the boys. When I got back, they made me tell on Matthew (I wouldn’t have otherwise) and he got recess-less room for a week and a call to his parents (he would later mouth to me as I walked by him in the hallway, “You’re dead.” This story is a testament to his failure).”
Now, how does one get hit with a shovel? I think I was 13-15 at the time. A bunch of us were hanging out watching TV in my friend Nick’s den. The usual shit talking started between Frederico and myself. I don’t know how it escalated but we were about to fight in the Holman’s garage. I grabbed the back of his neck and started to push him but he slipped. I ended forcing him into the ground face first. Instead of apologizing and seeing if he was okay, I kinda walked away and said, “Opps, he slipped. ” (Clearly I was a dick growing up). When Frederico got up a couple of minutes, he was looking all over the garage for a bat but all he could find was a shovel. He was getting ready to swing it at me and I told him if you want to fight me, fight with your hands (I would like to add that there were at least four other people there who did nothing to stop him and probably wanted to see if he’d actually do it). He swung but I jumped towards him closing the distance between us so he only caught me with the wooden handle. Once again, he found the back of his neck being squeezed by my hands. I was getting ready to punch him but this kid was biting my other finger so I couldn’t raise my fist. Then Nick’s older brother, Chris, ran out and broke it up. We laughed about it a few days later and never talked about it again.
Update: I forgot that I covered #65 too.