I don't know why I am writing in my blog today. Yes, I haven't written anything for two weeks, but why today? I have Death By Chocolate (a beautifully wonderful type of food) right behind me, and I have alot of company surrounding me. I must be mad writing this now, but here it goes.
I was a bad little kid. Oh sure, all you think me as the perfect child, kind, gentle, patient, loving and humble. However, I was a bad kid for most of elementary school.
I remember when I "patrolled" the playground with two friends, keeping the peace. Actually, that is what I told the teachers, I was actually looking for a scrap to get into. I go into a few skirmishes, I actually threw two kids together while I was covering rear for my group. Two blood-thirsty kindergartners attacked, and my weasel like friends ran. I stood my ground, desperately wanting an excuse for a fight. The kids came and I threw them together, and they fell to the ground hurt.
I also got into a minor scrap in a school-wide brawl. I got close-lined and that was the end of me. So this really doesn't matter, as I didn't get a chance to fight.
I once also was sitting in my class while I was in grade 2 when 3 kids ran in. One of them ran past me, so I stuck out my leg and he went flying over top of two desks. Yes, I'm afraid he was hurt. However, I went up to the other kid, who is now my best friend Joe Ross. I told him to get off of my other friend Michael or I'd give him a knuckle sandwich. He ran away, Joey that is, and since then he has stuck close. Maybe he figures my finely chiseled body will protect him from harm. That would explain the reason he joined my at Esso.
I also knocked out someone in tether ball. Now this wasn't my fault, OK so it was but still. The reason why it is a highlight is because I was in grade 3 or 4 while the guy I knocked out was in grade 11. No lies even. This is how it went down:
There we were, two lonely desperado's on the playground. We stood facing each other, the ball hanging limply in my clenched hand. He had a slight grin on his face, like he actually expected to beat me. Well, the game began, and he was just toying with me while I leapt and bounded. My good cousin Kealie was watching as I got ready to smoke the ball. I remember my torso springing back into its normal position, my fist hitting the ball squarely. I remember watching the ball shoot forward, and the guy must have blinked because the next thing I know is the dude was falling to the ground, his glasses flying in a perfect arc above his head. I stood there, stunned that I actually knocked this guy out. After about 30 seconds he started to get up and mutter something about killing "that kid". Needless to say, I ran as fast as I could.
So these are but a few of my violent childhood experiences, and it actually feels good to get it off my chest. Anywho, I shall leave you know as you must be either silently shaking with mirth or telling someone in the house to quit reading my blog because I am not making sense anymore.