Back when I was
14, Jimmy Duncan said, “I’m gonna stomp a mud hole in you after school!” I
said, “Just tell me where to meet you!” “The high school football field!” He
was pissed because little Chrissy Thurgood dumped him and announced that she
was my girlfriend.
“I can’t believe
you’re gonna fight Jimmy Duncan!” My friend, Zack, said. “I’ve never been in a
fight!” I said, my stomach turning. “Oh my God! You’re gonna get your ass
kicked!” Zack said.
I met Zack on the first day of 1st
grade. We were fast friends. Each year, from 1st grade through 8th
grade, we had each other’s back. He was a small boy with bony arms and legs,
and his glasses could’ve easily started a forest fire.
Zack met me in
the gym for our last class of the day. We were in the locker room putting on
our gym clothes. “Dude, you are so dead if I don’t help you.” He said. “How are
you going to help?” I had already been preparing for my end. “Just trust me.” He
winked.
Everybody in
class had heard that I was going to fight Jimmy Duncan on the high school
football field after school. Of course, there was a crowd gathered. “There he
is! He actually came!” Someone said.
Jimmy exited from
the gym and was walking toward us. Some people whooped. I wanted to run. “Dear
God, help me!” I said under my breath.
Jimmy was so big,
and I was just a little guy. I started stretching to buy some time. “Come on,
puss! Ain’t you ready!” Jimmy said.
The next moment, Zack
and a dozen of our friends, all armed with water balloons, took over the
football field. Water balloons were flying in all directions. Kids were running
and screaming but still getting wet. After all was said and done, I went home
wet, but I didn’t fight Jimmy.
I was thanking my
lucky stars for Zack and my friends. Fighting is dangerous: people can get
severely injured or even die. I prefer to have a good discussion over a violent
fight any day. I leave the fighting to the professionals.
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