Tuesday, August 26, 2008

My + Ass = KICKED!

I have had this memory from my childhood stuck in my head for a while. I am 8 and I am sitting in the back of a truck with my uncle Mike getting a ride home from school (who the fuck lets an 8 year old ride in the truck bed!?). Mike’s 3 years older than me, but he got held back, so we are in the same grade. My mother is sitting in the front of the truck with my stepdad and they are screaming at each other. When we pull up to my house, Mike jumps out and leaves his backpack, so I stay behind to grab it. As I toss it down to Mike, my mother gets out of the car and slams the door. At that moment I make eye contact with my stepdad in the rearview mirror, then he slams on the gas and peels out. My next memory is of my uncle Mike crying hysterically refusing to leave my side as the paramedics load me into the ambulance.

It’s an odd thing to think about, I know! It was just something that popped in my head recently, and ever since, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. There I was in the room with Mike thinking to myself, HOW THE FUCK DID I LET MYSELF GET INTO THIS SITUATION!? The second I knew he was home I should have done a 180 and gotten the fuck out of there. BUT I didn’t! Instead I went right in and tried to grab all the stuff I came to get my mother’s house. She was at work, and all the kids were elsewhere and this would be my only chance for a long time to actually be in the house without my mother harassing me! Johnny and I drove all the way up from San Diego for my social security card and a couple of my old surfboards, and I wasn’t about to let Mike ruin this for me.

I gave Johnny the keys to the garage so he could load up the surfboards and I went into the house to grab my social security card. I knew Mike was there even before I walked into the house because I could smell his nasty ditch weed from the driveway. Thinking about it now, maybe a small part of me wanted a confrontation because of the way we left things the last time I saw him. Right now I am stronger, more confident and better trained than I have been in my entire life, and maybe I wanted to see if it was enough. Well, if I wanted a fight, I got exactly what I wanted…

He was in my face the second I walked into the door. At first he was just calling me names and being an asshole, but then he pushed me into the wall with so much force that it knocked down almost all the pictures. I think this was the moment where I realized confronting Mike was a bad idea. It doesn’t really matter how well trained I am because he’s still 6’3 and 240 and I am still NOT. But it was too late because I wasn’t about to back down AGAIN! I may be a “fag”, but I am nobody’s bitch! And I refuse to let anybody treat me as such.

So I grabbed the hand he was using to pin me against the wall by his pinky, and in one fast motion I twisted his arm so he spun with his back to me. Then I lifted it as high as I could and proceeded to knee him in the kidney with all my strength. At this point all my adrenaline was gone, and I was left with this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was about to get my ass handed to me. That’s when he turned around and punched me so hard in the stomach that my whole body just locked up. I couldn’t move, much less breath. I totally just fell to the floor and crumpled into a ball. He was screaming stuff at me but I couldn’t really process the words. Then he kicked me, it hurt. A lot. I guess that’s when this memory from my childhood of him standing over me popped into my head. One second I was seeing stars, doing my best to prepare myself for the next blow the next I hear Johnny storming into the house.

It was over pretty fast, Mike’s a pussy if he’s in a fight with somebody his own size. Still Johnny didn’t exactly let him off easy. I think Mike’s going to need some stitches, and maybe a neck brace... When Johnny got me in the car and when we got back on the road I started crying. It wasn’t soft quiet manly crying where I could pretend there was something in my eye, it was loud embarrassing snot and tears and hysteria. I couldn’t get that memory of my 11 year old uncle crying over me as if his world just ended all because I was hurt. It was such an odd juxtaposition to the situation we just came from. Even more than that I just felt so alone and unloved. Like a few years ago I had all these people in my family that would have done anything for me just to make sure I was okay, but now I am all alone. A person that just walked into my life yesterday would never believe that there was once a time when I was loved.

It was all just so overwhelming and all I could do was cry. So I did. Johnny pulled the car over and hugged me so tight I thought I would suffocate. And I just kept on crying. I felt so goddamned ridiculous acting like such a bitch, but I couldn’t stop. Eventually I calmed down and when I was done we were just pulling up to Tyler’s pad in Culver City. We picked up Tyler and went out for some beers. Eventually we let Tyler in on our crazy day with my uncle, and I did my best to laugh it off, but before I knew it I felt those hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I seriously need to head to the store later and pick up some thicker skin.

We left the bar and went for a nice walk down the beach, and we had an amazing talk where I actually started to feel better. Tyler has always been good at cheering me up, I guess that’s why he’s my best friend. Johnny and I got into his car to drive back to SD around midnight. About an hour into our drive Johnny told me some awesome things, and he basically reaffirmed everything that Tyler had said to me a couple hours earlier. I am his best friend, I am never alone, I will always be loved. I am the luckiest guy in the world because I have 2 best friends and they are my brothers.


j said...

size matters

David said...

you three seriously need to fuck mike up. and i'm not gonna lie, this made me all sad and teary for a few moments

Jason said...

I know RGB. He's not thinking about revenge at all because he's not that kind of guy. Keep your head up RGB, you are better than all this bullshit.

Sam said...

i admire the way you're able to admit that you got beaten up.

Fair play.

RGB said...

Didn't I say that I had WAY to many emails!? ANyway I guess that I am totally going to have to answer some questions... I am not going to get any revenge on my uncle. I knew what I was doing, I messed with the bull and I got the horns! Most of the time when I decide to get in a fight I come out on top, but this time I didn't. Mike's a bad ass street brawler that has beat the shit out of more people than I can count (and I have a minor in mathematics!) so there's no shame in getting my ass kicked by him. Besides, Johnny broke his face big time so there's no need to go back for more.

In conclusion, yes size does matter, its easy to tell people you got your ass kicked when you blur out your face in all your pictures, and I think I was already over this by the time I finished writing this post.