[Carl Levitian]

I've never been that brave a soul. I didn't want to fight even as a young guy full of piss and vinigar. But like Gary Cooper said in High Noon, " a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." So I got the snot beat out of me by one Terry Sprague when I was 13 years old.

Over a pen.

My dad, for some reason, decieded to give me a Cross pen when I was in junior high school. My penmenship was nothing to write home about, so I knew it wasn't for that.

Anyways, there was this school bully, one Terry Sprague. He'd already flunked 9th grade at least once, so he was the biggest kid in school, and everyone was scared of him. He liked to pick out a new victim everyother day to rob of lunch money, and anything else he could scare out of you.

One day, like an idiot, I had the Cross pen clipped in my shirt pocket. Dumb. Terry was comming the other way down the hall, and he stopped by me and suddenly plucked the pen from my pocket with glee, saying loudy "Hey, look at the fancy pen. I like it, thanks dweeb." and he stuck it in his pocket and walked off down the hall laughing with his gang of wanna be hanger ons.

I was stunned at first, but then a sense of dread came ov er me as I knew what I had to do.

They had stopped at a locker and were hanging around harrasing some other poor joker, and I walked up and snatched the pen back. "I believe thats mine." I told him.

Remember all those old westerns, where the guy comes into the saloon looking for the bad guy, and all the music, conversation, clinking of glasses, all noise stops? Right then, all life in that part of the hallway stopped. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Total silence. For a moment, even Terry was stunned.

The moment was short lived.

He punched me good, sending me reeling against some lockers with a bang, and then my main recollection was one of alot of numbing impacts on my person in a short period of time. Things were kind of confusing. But the I had the Cross pen in my hand the whole time.

This was the 1950's, and nobody back then gave any thought to tactical things. Certainly everyday objects were not thought to be dangerous. Certainly not a ball point pen. Even a nice ball point pen. But I guess desparation can do funny things to the brain in times of stress. I had a tight grip on that pen, with the clip end in my fist, and the buisness end one writes with sticking out past my thumb. I have no consious memory of planning it, but I was getting the snot beat out of me, and I just stabbed out with it.

The red gods of fate must have been watching over 7th graders that day.

To this day, I don't know just how it happened, but the point of that pen got Terry right through the throat. All I knew was that the blows of his fists stopped suddenly, and he was staggering back against the other side of the hall while holding his throat and gasping, and blood was oozing out between his fingers. In the silent coridor, his gasping was loud and erie.

Then teachers were there, and I was holding a Cross pen smeared with streaks of blood and a thumb was red with some stickly stuff. A weird collidiscope of images are my memories of that morning, like a slide show projected by a maniac. Then my mom and dad were there, and I was trying to explain. Dad told me to keep quiet, and then he got pretty offensive to the school personel. Yelled alot that this is what happens when they let a over grown hoodlum go to school with decent kids, he's holding them responcible for anything that happens to me.

He shut them up and we walked out of there. Just as we were leaving, with the police standing right there, he looks over on the princibles desk at my blood smeared pen, and reaches over and picks it up saying to the crowd of school officials and cops, "Thats my son's pen, he'll be having it back now!"

Later that night he took some poleroid photos of my face, two shots from each angle, and enclosed one photo each from each angle in a letter to the school board, advising them that since I have been assaulted, he's instructing me to defend myself in any mannor I need to. He kept the original letter and sent them the carbon.

Terry Sprague was expelled from school on the grounds of long term repeated violence to other students.

Dad gave me the pen back, and gave me a little talk.

"Son, life is not like hollywood, and you're not the lone ranger. When all things are equel, sometimes the good guy is going to loose. You have to make sure it isn't equel. You have to do whatever it is, use whatever you have to, to win. if that means driving something right through your enemys throat, then you do it."

He turned to leave my room, paused, and then tossed something bright on the bed besides me. It was a small little Christy knife.

"Let your hand know the feel of it over the next few days," he said, "Then when you know it, I'll show you what to do with it if the need arises."

A few days later, we went down the basement where dad had hung up an old pair of jeans stuffed with rags. I looked at my dad with a little different light after that. He had seemed so ordinary. A compact man, no more that 5'7", he was so inconspicous in his grey suit that he seemed more like someone who would be lecturing on the beauty of the logic of algerbra than somebody who knows the location of major motor tendons and nerve centers.

Now more than 50 years later, I still have that pen and Christy knife around. The pen has most of the chrome worn off, showing alot of dented and scarred up brass. The Christy knife has been through a couple blade replacements, and is worn out like the cross pen. Both have been retired for reasons of sentiment, and a new Cross was purchased some years ago. A Buck Hartsook replaced the Christy.

It was an amazing lesson for a 13 year old, to learn just how thin skinned and delicate a human being is.

[hangtime]

Many of us have had encounters similar to yours and conversations with the old man as a result of them. I think our stories are similar because we grew up in a different time and place than our children do today. Now we have to factor in the chance of a drive by shooting after the fight is over and the retaliation against family members by gangster wannabes.
I like your style of writing, Carl, and the smile it puts on my face even if it is a wistful one.

[jhansman]

Reminds of that scene in Grosse Point Blank when John Cusak's character saves his own life with a pen he just happened to pick up. In a pinch, you use what you have and leave the rules to the gentlemen. I too was assailed by a bully in seventh grade, so I can empathize. Sounds like you dad was a good dude.

[Cougfan2]

When I was in Boy Scouts there was this one kid that was actually smaller than me that decided to punch me in the back of the head one day. Now the reason I normally try not to fight is that it stresses me so much that I will do anything, AND I MEAN ANYTHING, to end it. I lost my cool and wrapped both my hands around his throat and started squeezing. My older brother had to pry me off of him. I blinked and that kid was 1/4 mile away.:neener:

[gidaeon]

This story shows how much has changed over time. The same responses today would've ended very differently. Your dad commanded respect clearly. Nice writeup. A time (long before I was born) when respect and guts meant different things than today.

[JShirley]

CougFan,

I have a similar story. I certainly was no hard case as a child, but when you finally managed to get my dander up...lookout! The guys in my grade looked at me a little differently after that. ;)

John

[sixgunner455]

The pen is mighty. Mighty, indeed.

[JesseKM]

Go dad!

[Todd A]

Thanks for sharing that. It reminded me of way back when.When I was a dumb "tacticool" freshman in High School (1983). It involved me,a locker room,a senior and a cheap double edge boot knife in my high top Nike's.

No blood drawn,no cops or teachers,and I was never messed with again.

[hso]

Nice piece of writing, again, Carl.

A sharpened No. 2 pencil ended up sticking out of the back of a HS bully's right hand 30+ years ago. It resulted in a complete attitude change on his part. I realized that whatever was at hand could be handy back then.

[woodfiend]

That right there sir, is the best story I have read from this website. I am a high school senior and I am neither a bully nor a victim, but I will always take this story as amazing and courageous. Thanks for posting it.

[NorestRDS]

I grew up fighting and i would consider it a past time of mine.

i got red hair and was picked on alot , finally in 3rd grade i accidentally ripped a classmates jacket and he challenged me to a fight . we met after school in a lot and squared up with a few friends there to watch . i slugged him once and i still rember to this day watching his fat cheeks shake in slow motion . blood soon followed and i ran home so proud of myself.

next year i got in a verbal fight with one of the "cool kids " the more popular and he challenged me to a fight , he came to my house later that night and we squared up and he socked me around a few times and i gave up , i wasnt hurt at all i just was shocked i was getting hit and it wasnt over already. i just went in my house and that was that.

i was in several other fights with friends and pretty much honed my ability to fight on my friends . got my ass whooped a few times and did a lot of ass whooping myself. never , ever started a fight but never let someone pick on me . by about 6th grade no one really messed with me but i wasnt cool with the in crowd or anything.

I had to stick up for my brother alot because he had a big mouth and no one was really afraid of either of us but we always got our licks in .

even growing up in the 90's guns , knives and impact weapons were never used in my area now its the opposite and you cant kick a fair one . anytime there is a fight in my neighborhood i always go outside and make the young kids do it one on one .

[Gordon]

I had the same deal in 8th grade when I was 13 against a 16 year old Red haired muscular Russian emigrant 8th grader , who plain was sadistic mean. I minded my own business until I was jumped without provocation on the edge of school grounds after school on my way home. I stuck a compass point thru his cheek(only weapon at hand-I was aiming at the eye when he had me down pounding me) and then got up and tossed rocks at his toady (they always have a moron weasel toady ) until I whacked him in the mouth and finally found a stick to follow up by whacking the howling russian until he settled down then I ran home!. Even in the late 50s in dismal liberal NJ an honor student severly injuring a known felon gave me heat, including from my parents which I never forgave completely and turned me into the survilvalist I been ever since!

[CZ.22]

I've never really had a problem with bullies in high and middle school (Sophomore year starts a week from today) because I am so darn big (6'7", 230) However, bag when I was in second grade, there were some neighborhood bullies. One Fourth of July, they decide to shoot Roman candles at us. While I was headin towards the door, one of the bullies comes up to my brother, holding a bottle rocket, and says "You wanna die?" Like some line out of a Pierce Brosnan Bond, my brother says, "You first." and punches him in the face.

There are some people, who are either excessively stupid or excessively cruel, who just won't listen to reason, and brute force is needed. They are like rabid animals: they will hurt others until they are stopped.

[PTK]

A sharpened No. 2 pencil ended up sticking out of the back of a HS bully's right hand 30+ years ago.

Nice magic trick, hso. :D

[earthworm]

I was the proverbial 90 lb. weakling tought by Mom & Dad to turn the other cheek. Got 'horseplayed' with until I was a sophmore in high school when I discovered man is the tool-bearing animal & decided to brain the bully of the moment with a 2X4. "Yer a yellow coward! Put down that club & I'll kick yer ass!" "Damn right if I put down this club you'll kick my ass & I don't want my ass kicked!" This & pulling a knife on 2 'good ole boys' got me the reputation of being a "cheatin' dirty-fightin' crazy MF" ..... & left alone.

[42]

cerebral palsu plus glasses and intelligence = target. Got jumpet in the gym locker room, I carry deoderant to gym and had a lighter because friends smoked and I took chem, Drew down on 4 thugs and lit a jet of deo blew it out and was allowed to walk away.

knives people carried guns people could "apparantly" get.

[ErikS]

A sharpened No. 2 pencil ended up sticking out of the back of a HS bully's right hand 30+ years ago.
Heh... Reminded me of the Jokers first scene in The Dark Knight... :-)

[wulf]

with my first pocket knife, a cub scout style knife- the kind with 1 blade, a can opener bottle opener and an awl. I was whittling something inside the family garage when my best friend from across the street came in bringing his cousin with him. Immediately his cousin began to taunt me and finally kicking me in the seat of my pants. I whirled around and dragged that knife across his throat (backside). I never saw anyone turn paler and he ran. I never saw him again and to this day I wonder if I meant to use the backside.

[mio]

my freshman year in highschool my buddy and i were in a science class dont remember if it was chem or bio. anyway had been chatting with one of the star football players girlfriends and the jock happened to see it and be in that class with us.

the jock decided to throw his weight around a bit and shove my buddy around a little before the teacher came into the room. now i dont remember exactly what size my buddy was back then but right now hes 6' 5" tall and only weighs 145, he wasnt built any better back then.

jock shoves him a couple times my buddy sees a meter stick on the lab table hes just been bounced off picks it up and a few slaps across the jocks face and weve got a whole new attitude.

that taught me something important and ever since then everytime i walk into a room i take a quick look to see what i can swing or throw or stab with if i need to.

[TimboKhan]

Much like CZ, I never got much crap because I was always the biggest dude around, but when I was in fifth grade or so, I took a bat to this kid Tommy. Needless to say, Tommy didn't bother me much anymore.

On the negative side, In 7th grade, I once got in a fight with this kid Garrett, and while his punches were weak and ineffectual, I was so afraid of getting in trouble (thanks to the trouble from the bat incident, by the way) that I never did punch him back, and instead stood there and let him just punch me in the face a few times. It didn't hurt physically, but the intense shame of not giving him a whack back still lingers some 24 years after the fact. It sounds a little crazy, but whenever I think about giving up on something, I let the shame from that remind me how not doing anything at all sticks with you for far longer than trying and failing. Of course, trying and succeeding is even better!

On the plus side, my friend Nate's brother Matt had no such compunction about fighting, and he pretty much worked Garrett like a speedbag on my behalf, then told me that if I he ever heard of me not fighting back, he was going to whip me. Matt was far and away the toughest kid in town, and frankly, a whooping from him was far, far scarier a proposition than getting yelled at or grounded. I never became a "fighter", and other than a few minor scuffles, I never got into another fight, but I did become substantially more aggressive, all thanks to shame and fear, lol.

[CZ.22]

Hey- I too hit a kid named Tommy, in fifth grade! But it was because he was being an a-hole as usual. I did a palm jab uppercut to his shoulder blade. He kicked the chair out ffrom under him, landed on his knees, and started crying.

Yeah, I got into trouble, but Tommy was, and still is, collectively hated. So I didn't get into too much trouble.

[Aka Zero]

I bought a nice zebra pen for like $7 at walmart, steel barrel was surprisingly thick, reminded me of "tactical pens"

I hope I never have to use anything in SD. Just hope a knife will scare anyone away, or a gun, after I get my ccw.

BTW awesome dad.

[geologist]

As the only visible minority in an elementary school I had a lot of fights with bullies, 2 or 3 against 1 (me). I lost all of them until the 7th grade when I finally had a fight 1 on 1 and easily beat him into the ground. From that day on I got the message.

[Beskytte]

I was bullied some up until high school, then I was known as one of "the scary kids." In fourth or fifth grade I did stab someone in the arm with a mechanical pencil, he was being sort of passive aggressive, sort of physical. He decided he wasn't so tough after that. Then in ninth grade as a freshmen I pulled another mechanical pencil on someone (complete coincidence) when he assaulted me with a metal spiral notebook. He got one in the cheek and we both got 3 days ISS since no one could determine who started the "fight."
hangtime is right, you do have a great writing style. I enjoyed your story.
And I'm a lot like Cougfan2, I don't get into fights because my limits are broken. I'll do anything to win because I can't trust anyone. Its also a problem that I learned from my father's temper that violence is the first solution. I also lose the meaning of the value of a human's life sometimes.

[Dr. Tad Hussein Winslow]

That story makes me very very happy. Love it. :D

[Blofeld]

I laughed so hard I think I peed a little. If ever they remake the movie "A Christmas Story" and sign Steven Seagal to star in it, you, my friend, will be writing the screenplay.

Thanks for a wonderful story.

[cracked butt]

I had a similar thing happen.

My freshman year I was trying out for the football team and found that there was a lot of hazing going on- mostly 'normal' stuff like towel snappings, icy-hot in the jock straps, etc. One of the biggest seniors took things too far and started deficating in the toilet after practice and meted out 'swirlies' to an unlucky freshman. (A swirlie is where a victims head is forced into a pot full of excrement and flushed). He cornered and got my best friend on one day then came after me the next. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and forced me into a bathroom stall while trying to push my head into the toilet. I somehow got lucky and twisted to the left while bringing my right fist around- connecting solidly with his adam's apple. At this point in my life, I had never hit another person, but was shocked to see that he dropped to his knees and was trying to breathe. Not sure what happened to him, as I grabbed my clothes, and ran like hell, threw my clothes on in the hallway and ran all the way home (this was summer practice). I thought that I was going to get killed when I came back the next day, but he pretty much left me alone and toned down the hazing a lot.


Edit:

Funny thing looking back. Some of the bullies that tormented me and others in school had physically matured early and were 'big' and 'scary' at maybe 5'11 190lbs while in school. The few that I've run into after highschool were about the same size but with a beergut, and acted pretty humble around me when they saw that I had 6" and 80 lbs on them:D

[HoosierQ]

I am 6'7" and have been since I was 16 or so. I came from a family of big guys and my mother always emphasized being gentle so as not to be thought of as a thug or whatever. My father probably would have had different advice but as was so common in the early 60's, he worked all the time, came home really tired, and most everyday advice came from mom.

This had a peculiar result in that I would generally allow myself to get picked on too long and then "snap" when everyone was not expecting it and watch out...bad things happened although I don't think I ever injured anybody permanantly.

Probably the best story was in 7th grade. It was my month to get picked on as I was not sufficiently cool. Being, at that time, 6 feet tall made it all the more amusing. I let it go on too long of course like a dope. Then one day this guy Walker (they were a pair Wagner and Walker) started in. Well I snapped. He was probably normal-sized for a 7th grader so I guess 5 feet 1 or something. Basically I picked him up and shook him violently until he actually went limp. I dropped him on the floor like a rag doll and he didn't get up for a while. As there were sufficient witnesses, my days of getting picked on were over for good. Why I didn't just hit him I really don't know...but that shaking sure did the trick.

I've never been sure if people left me alone out of fear or just because the didn't want the embarrassment of being shaken half to death...which I've never done to anybody before or since by the way.

[lanternlad1]

I was never the fighting type. To this day, I'm still not. In school I was picked on, sure, like everyone was. But it never got physical, until one day...

I had to take two buses to high school. I'd get on one, switch buses at a different high school, and take the second one to mine. One day, while waiting for the bus at the switch point, two BIG guys known for being jerks to everyone were horsing around nearby (6"6, 250+ both of them). One was getting the better of the two, and pushed his friend on the ground. They both started laughing. I thought it was funny, so I started laughing too. The one on the ground didn't like that. He got up and came over to me with the usual threats of violence. Yawn.

Then, he pushed me. So hard, I felt something pop in my spine, and it hurt. Bad.

That was it. I jumped into the air (he was WAY taller than me) and punched down as hard as I could. The blow landed on the bridge of his nose, and I felt it crack under my hand. He went down a second time, holding his nose. His buddy looked at me scowling, so I yelled "YOU WANT SOME?!" and he looked away. I had just beaten two bullies with one punch.

That fight was an epiphany for me. It showed me that I don't have to take the crap that people want to dish out, so I don't. Nowadays, you can't settle your arguments with just your fists anymore. Even if you win, they'll come back with buddies or a gun for revenge. So I carry, and I don't worry about it.