Friday, June 15, 2012

Them's Fighting Words..

what are ya...

The troubles of ordering a twenty piece...

"At least I'm not a rapist!" is suddenly shouted over any other drum conversation, cheering from patio, bad music playing at this party. It's that scene in the movie where it drowns out everything, shuts up everyone, stops everything, even the music skips off track. It echoes

Let me pause here for a moment. Those of you who know me, know I do not deal well with being attacked - physically, I can hold my own...but when it comes to words, it always leads to the physical. As "good" as I am with my words, it's not my preferred method to turn to. Sure, words have gotten me out of fights, but they have equally gotten me into them.

And just like Marty McFly, I cannot back down from certain provocations - funny how a character in one of my favorite movies of all time (all time!) learns his lesson, which should be the lesson we all learn from watching, but me..a big pile of 'nopes' is what you get.

I come from the south side of Chicago, chi-ca-ghetto - the heights, and sure it may not have been as bad as other areas, it was still an area wherein my elementary school practiced bomb threats and school shootings more than we did fire drills...and this was before it was "cool."

It was where men settled their differences like men; if you had problems, you solved them. That was the law of the land, the way things were as kids, the way things should still be today. People didn't hide behind things like the internet and police protection - wherein the law enforcement is actually protecting the wrong individuals, as seen in my plight with the O-city efftectives on Wednesday....or kinda like how SoCaliJoshi was first to talk shit, and yet when I confronted via messages how we could settle our discrepancies in person, he was quick to tell me how he was going to print out our conversation and take it to the police..charge me with harassment or threats or some other bullshit.

These later generations are producing more and more internet shit-talkers and bullies, yet, their flame war on their keys is as hard as they'll ever hit something. So keep on doing what you're doing, hiding behind those anorexic pictures, maybe one day they'll be man enough...

People will argue this with me, but I see nothing wrong with a good old fashioned fist-to-cuffs...I'm not saying you can't ever talk shit out - me the believer in communication - but sometimes, the only way to put someone in their place, is putting them there with a little physicality. I was spanked as a child, shit hurt, I'll do the same to my kids, I don't care what the law says..again, society going soft, creating soft individuals.

I've been in my fair share of fights..I've tried to get out of fights, I've tried to start fights, it's life. I'm not some wild hooligan that's always looking for a fight..wherein the slightest thing will set me off...Heck, even certain times I've been provoked I have walked away, it's just the timing or situation I guess.

Like this one time I was with my girlfriend and some angry guy was yelling at me in a parking lot - short story, his girlfriend was driving down the wrong way and I made no effort to get out of the way as it was clearly my aisle, may have even swerved close to teach them a lesson about paying attention...regardless. So this hot-head doesn't like my innocent lesson and decides he wants to take things to another level...he's cursing me out, running through cars and aisles trying to get to me as my girlfriend and I approach the store..

In response I do yell back things such as "Alright" "ok" "whatever" to show I have no interest in him or his cause. Well, he eventually makes his way to me and I just keep heading for the store, I don't have time for this guy...Then, out of no where he hits me from behind - hard enough to disengage my hand holding with the gf, and I fly forward, head down, almost toppling over, but luckily catch myself.

At that point of stopping my forward progression I realize what had just occurred, and in a hero-esque fashion, regaining my balance with my feet firmly planted on the ground, straighten my back, raise my head up, turn around, look the guy who's now a good ten feet away from me square in the eye, and with a chuckle I respond, "Really?" being finished with my half smirk.

I looked over to see my girlfriend wide eyed, and as I made the move extending my hand out to rejoin hers so we could continue with our shopping experience, the aggressor took off back running to his vehicle. I was dumbfounded by the whole situation, and kept asking her if that really just happened..she was in as much shock as I was, if not more, for I remember her stating, "I seriously thought you were going to lose your shit and I'd have to call an ambulance because you were going to kill that guy" and I remember replying frivolously,"He should be happy that he caught me at a rare time."

The asshole tonight would not be so lucky.

The straw that was in my drink moments ago, through the dissonance found its way to the backbone of Joe, who was, by then, on his toes about to fall over this whole ordeal. I don't recall much as it all went by so fast, yet, in the same token, probably played out in slow motion to me then. And after playing it back in my head, I swear it went both ways.

Maybe everything leading up to what I did next was in slow motion...from the time the words were said, to my action, time may have stood still..allowing those horrendous words that verbalized to channel through my ear cannel, bounce around in my brain - enough times for me to realize the gravity of the situation. I swear it repeated, I swear it played over it my head..not just the words some drunk dumbass spewed, but the whole situation..everything. I saw Detective Whatsherface there. I saw her in her monstrous form, badgering me like some sort of criminal. I saw all of my texts pleading for a response. I relived each and every one of those days that went by without an answer. Those passing seconds re-occupied the night of the alleged "incident". It was probably no more than three seconds but it felt like my life flashing before my eyes..and not necessarily my life, but everything that had been involved with this stupid incident.

I stood there paralyzed reliving the past; all the images, the emotions, just everything going by as slowly as it did the first time..floating in a sea of emotion, not really able to free myself...until eventually the playback caught up with the present, dep breath, and from there it went from slow motion to fast forward...before I knew it, I had reacted.

From what I gather, from my broken memory and pieces of the spectators, I retaliated with vengeance. "At least I'm not a rapist!" was spoken - there was a slight pause, the one I relived my life in, and then it was all over. The crowd instantly grew silent, the dj stopping the music to a screeching halt, while the kegs poured no more, mindless conversations whittled to nothing as all eyes were on me. As the crowd lived in their lifetime slow motion, I took a breath, lived mine, and brought the present up to speed quickly.

I turned, without any sense of recourse, without any care, i turned to face my attacker; but as i turned my fist was swinging. Again, this happened all to quickly. My clenched fist flew threw the air without any care of disposition - had it made contact with anyone at that point justice would have been served, however, luckily, no innocent by standers were harmed.

When those six words were shouted to me, it sounded like they were right next to me, whispering loudly in my ear. I pictured them being on the other side of the room due to the fact the person was a giant passive agressive pussy. But luckily for me, this time, as the perpetrator articulately staggered over those words, he also stumbled closer to me...this would be his downfall...actually, my fist would his downfall, his steps towards me were just stupid.

In one swift motion, my fist met his face with a sudden fury and rage...Everything must have been bottled up in that one shot because I didn't even move after that, not a single other punch was thrown, nothing. I connected with my right hand which contained every bit from the past two months I had been trying to hold onto....everything I just relived was put into that swing..everything I just relived in those 3 seconds was harnessed into leveling any falsities.

Apparently one punch was all it took for Mr. Glassjaw to be corrected. My right hook connected and he went down faster than a fat girl on prom night. After the punch I just stood there...I didn't straddle on top MMA style and give kill punches, I didn't spit in his face like some forfeiting all happened too fast I want to think...but then again, maybe it was because of something else.

I destroyed more than just my opponent in that swing..I shut up more than just some asshole spurting out hate..I was putting an end to the this whole fucked up situation. That punch, that right fist, embodied the truth..and it silenced any slanderous accusations that were coming against me.

I'm going to continue fighting, because that's what I know to do...because it's easier to make up lies than believe in the truth..and if some fucked up person wants to say otherwise, well, there's gonna be hell to pay.

"I think he just took his wallet"

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