You're gonna get it!

Photo courtesy of Photobucket: ChillyMephisto

I was hard core. I mean I was Scrappy! I had a couple of life and death situations so I learned to be scrappy in the name of survival.
Let me first state that the purpose of the seventh grade is to eradicate any semblance of self esteem one may have accidentally acquired to that point. My seventh grade did exactly that. I was skinny, awkward, a little opinionated and outgoing yet perpetually insecure. That meant the makings of enemies in Junior High, mortal enemies who want nothing more than to pluck waifs like me from the face of the earth. Enter a girl whose initials start with Denise Olson and the first example of my evolution to become the fighter I am. I sensed she loathed me by the constant barrage of threats to my person and daily picking me apart in the hallway. One rainy day she “jumped” me as I was walking to a friend’s house. I was a solid seventy pounds to her buck twenty, however she came up behind me with surprising speed. Well it was fight or flight time. That is when the Dragon first reared her ugly head. I dropped to a tight ball, screamed like the little girl I was and prayed to a God I then believed in to save me. Of course it startled her, and as luck would have it also caught the attention of an onlooker. My tormentor dropped on top of me and threw repeated punches (I think thousands but can't be certain) as she pried me from my ball. Thankfully the man who witnessed this atrocity for at least 10 seconds longer than he had to, stepped in, shamed her (because that made a difference in her general disposition) and made us go our separate ways. She never came after me again. After that display I can only assume it was the very real fear of getting a piece of me?
With the second attempted whacking, I had heard ALL day that this particular day was to be my last. Afterschool three freshman cheerleaders were going to “Kick my little ass”. They were the epitome of Mean Girls. I imagined them cornering me, dropping their pompoms, forming a small pyramid and psyching themselves up in a perfectly formed cheer just before my demise. How does anyone go up against that? Afterschool I darted out a side door and weaved my way to a highly visible sidewalk to walk home. No matter. They saw me. I could hear them, quite a ways behind me, screaming their dislike for me, detailing my offing and laughing an evil cackle all the while. I walked more expeditiously and they answered my gait. The G. Reaper Squad caught me along a white picket fence and enclosed me tightly. My jelly legs barely held me up when I remembered what proved to be a game changing little nugget. Earlier that day at lunch, I noticed a shiny, metal, golden, heavy object between two vending machines. I had no idea what it was, but noted it had four small circles in a line and a long space underneath those circles. I tossed it in my Esprit book bag and planned to show it to my brother or mom that evening. Back to the impending death, The Dragon grabbed the first heavy thing she could find in her bag, which was the same thing she found at lunchtime, and launched it at Middle Mean as hard as she could. Bulls eye! The brass object hit her square on her forehead right above her eyes. The Flanking Means immediately aborted the mission and went to Middle Mean’s aid. To steal the phrase from an iconic movie: “From then on, when I went anywhere, I Was Running!” As it was before, I wasn’t bothered anymore by the Mean Girls. In their defense, they probably thought I was going to nunchuck their arse next. But that’s what happens when a Dragon gets all Scrappy!
Good things~