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Something interesting I'd like to share.

I'm not a violent person. I had never been in a fight, not even at school. Somehow, for 26 years I'd avoided any form of physical confrontation. So when two youths started to hassle me - calling me a poof and asking for money - as I walked home through Darlinghurst one evening, I really had no idea what to do. When they'd cornered me, the bigger of the two demanded money, calling me a "stupid, ugly fuckstick" in the process. I had about four dollars, which is why I was walking and not in a cab. My hands shook as I handed over the change. The little guy laughed. The next thing I saw was a large fist just before it connected with my nose. I fell to the ground and felt a solid kick land on my rib cage before they ran off, laughing. I ran toward my home, blood streaming from my nose.

Fifty metres later, standing outside my place, I stopped and looked back at the two laughing shadows walking down the footpath. Suddenly I wanted to kill those cunts. I had no fear. Humiliation had released something in me that had been repressed for years.

I went to the boot of my car and took out a tyre lever. I took off my shoes and my good shirt and began to pad softly up to the two muggers. I stayed in the shadows until I was about ten metres away, then I began to run, quickly, but softly. When I was right behind them I brought the lever down on the big guy's shoulder. The other guy, the little one, spun around and tried to kick me, but missed and fell into the gutter. The big guy grabbed his own shoulder and hollered out in pain, so I brought the lever down on the hand protecting his shoulder, which knocked him to his knees. He screamed, loud.

The little guy regained his balance, grabbed my collar and tried to knee me in the stomach, but it was an ineffective blow, just scraping up my chest.I hit the little guy on the skull with the lever. He too collapsed, gripping his forehead. Blood oozed between his fingers.

Still gripping his shoulder, the big guy tried to get up, so I hit him with the tyre lever again on the same shoulder, this time using both hands like an axe stroke. He made this strange whimpering sound and looked up at me, so I hit the same shoulder again. And again. Even harder this time. When I looked down, his shoulder looked weird. It was all skewed and bent in. One arm was a lot lower than the other one, and he was as white as snow and shaking. I turned and ran. That was nearly ten years ago, and I haven't had a fight since.


Fiction or not, I like this story because I feel I can relate to it. I've always thought about what I would do if I were attacked in some meaningless way as described above; almost always the answer that comes to my mind is violence, swift and without mercy. The last bit makes it seem to me like the writer feels disconnected or confused about the pain and suffering he has just caused.

I worry about that.

The article came from the "True Stories" section of Australian Black Label Penthouse, June 1996.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
q
Oct. 27th, 2000 01:28 pm (UTC)
gross, dude...
astrogirl
Oct. 27th, 2000 07:58 pm (UTC)
rah.
im a mean person, im an obnoxious person. i have no problem with that story, but i sympathise with the two broken guys.
i have no problem with picking on the weak, and the two guys attacking were only after cash. its the random bashing that disturbs me. i can easily see myself getting smashed by some tall, lanky (if not unattractive) geek some day. that scares me.
assume your place in the food chain!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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