.... was Scut Farkus...so help me he had yellow eyes....
We had a big kid on the block when I was 13 who terrorized all of us. His name was Mike. Mike was also known to try to make kids look at his private parts.
One day Mike stole my bike. He kept riding by me and taunting me. As he made another pass I had had enough and with all my might I hit him as hard as I could in the face. He was about 160 lbs and I could not have weight 100 lbs. Mike wore big black rimmed glasses. I had hit him so hard one of the nose pieces had pushed through one of his nostrils. Not only had I broke his nose he was bleeding all over the place. He was screaming and crying on the ground as he withered in pain.
I picked my bike up and road off. He never bothered me again.
I love “take down the bully” stories! Good for you!
I fear that not many boys are taught, when it comes down to it...that sometimes you just have to face the bully. Not in every instance, but sometimes. This used to be common knowledge...what a Dad sat down and told his son. Now? Bullying has become a life or death situation...or so the media says. It is part of the wussy-fication of our culture. “Our young people are dying!” Screamed one mag (I think People). Well, yeah, I guess that a few teens do commit suicide and it is a shocking, horrible thing...but REALLY...Bullies have been around since cave men. You have to look out for your kid, but you have to teach them to stand up for themselves because you will not be able to protect them from everything.
I predict it will be very UN-COOL to put your personal info and pics on “social media” pretty soon. I find it embarrassing to see some of the stuff people put up now. All the fake smiles, trying to look like celebrities....Yuck. I'm embarrassed for these people.
.... was Scut Farkus...so help me he had yellow eyes....
When I was in 2nd grade there was a bully named Mark. It was not cyber-bullying, it was the real thing. He would steal my milk money, knock my hat off my head, push me down, etc. I knew where he lived, so I went to his house and rang the doorbell. His mom came to the door, and these were my exact words:
Your son Mark is a horrible person. He picks on everybody. If you don’t do something NOW to straighten him out, he is going to die in the gutter when he grows up..
The mother started to weep, right there in the doorway, and Mark never bothered me again.
However he DID eventually end up dying in the gutter, a hopeless alcoholic.
That was in 1960, I think. I do remember that I was a 7 or 8 year old girl when I confronted his mother.