When I was nine years old, a bully
named Ricky started picking on me. This
happened sometime back during the Jurassic period, in the days before bully
awareness task forces visited schools. Playground survival was something
you just had to learn. I took karate. I went to weekly classes, learned some
moves, and had some fights in the karate studio. I sparred with a couple of
black belts (who obviously held back so they wouldn’t kill me). But whenever I
saw Ricky, I still ran from him. Never mind I was limber and had trained enough
to tag a full-grown man on the jaw with a snap kick. That would have been more
than enough to “persuade” Ricky to look elsewhere for his alpha male standing.
Yet I simply never believed I had enough for a showdown. The problem was all in
my head.
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