Once Bitten, Twice Shy

As I was flipping through the TV today I saw a show with two little kids fighting. It really was a funny sight because neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. It also brought to mind the most infamous fight in the history of Greenwood Elementary. It happed to involve myself and my sworn enemy Bert, a black kid with burn scars and a history of tomfoolery.

It was recess of a brisk fall day in my second grade year. I was playing 4 square with some of my friends when I noticed from afar that Bert was picking on Ashley, a girl I had a crush on. I wandered over to the slide where they were hanging out, hoping he would stop merely from my presence. He was getting up in her face and pushing her around for reasons unknown to me. But I didn't need to know the reasons to know that I wanted to kick his ass. He had done this kind of thing before but no one had ever stopped him because most of the second graders were afraid of him. I think it was mainly because his burn scars were shaped like the mark of the beast. I'm sure it just his dad putting out cigarettes on his face. Also no one wanted to go near him because he smelled like a farmer's pair of underwear in the August heat.

But I had seen enough and I had to put a stop to Bert's reign of terror. I slid down the slide, walked up to him and stared him straight in his good eye. I was not afraid of him or his gold tooth. I knew once the Peterson rage was unleashed, he would be in for a world of hurt. I acquired this rage from my brother who relentlessly beat me up and held me down when I was younger. All my frustration would build up until the moment that I could squeeze out of his hold. I would break free and go Hulk Hogan on him, feel no pain, and all he could see would be my fists and elbows. So I knew if I got in trouble in this fight I could just fall back on the vaunted Peterson rage since it had let me down so few times before.

After the introductory pushing and shoving, a crowd began to emerge around us. Everyone was screaming for me to kick smelly Bert's ass. Frankly, I didn't really know how to do that since I had never been in a real fight before, only wrestling matches with my brother. I did the best I could and began trying to put his big melon in a headlock. This was my crucial mistake because I put my limb next to his most viscous weapon, his mouth. He took the arm that was tightly wrapped around his neck and decided to take a big Mike Tyson size bite out of me. I should not have been shocked that he would fight dirty like this. After all, he was once rumored to have beaten up a girl and was not above kicking another guy in the junk. This was old hat to a guy like Bert.

His clench just got tighter and tighter as my strength was zapped from my body. I tried to bunch him with my other arm and trip him with my legs, but my aggresiveness only seemed to infuriate him more. He was intent on taking off my arm.

Soon I was in tears and all I could do was lay there until he slowly digested me like a snake would its prey. I was a sitting duck. As I looked up the crowed parted and a teacher finally came into the frey. She jumped on Bert's back hoping to free me from his clutches. It only would stretch out my skin though as his teeth were like a vice grip on my poor arm. She pled with him to release me over and over but he was not to be deterred. Finally she grasped onto his face with her hands hoping to claw it off herself. After a few seconds of eye gouging he turned his attention from me to Mrs. Harsha. He let go of me, wiped his mouth, and began digging into her skin like he had just done to me. She swung him around and around trying to fling free this rabid animal. A few more teachers came and were eventually able to separate Bert from Mrs. Harsha and subdue him. They had to carry him away like they would a prisoner being brought to the hole, squirming all over.

After coming to I noticed the indentions left on my arm. I think I would have been able to identify his dead body to the police with the dental records he left on my arm. Blood was oozing was seven or eight gashes and I was brought to the school nurse to help patch up my wounds. The nurse didn't feel good about my arm so she phoned my mom to pick me up and take me to the hospital for more inspection. My mom was more concerned than mad when she saw the little presents that Bert left me. She was just concerned on making sure that douchebag didn't have rabies.

After that day Bert never returned to Greenwood. He was shipped off to some other school, or kennel I'm sure. I could retell the story up to six years later and show the evidence to my audience on my arm. Finally the scars have subsided, but the memory of that crazed lunatic will never fade.