Al Steiner: Doing It All Over

I had been shy back in high school, a phase I'd gotten over later in life. But as a result of this shyness, I did not manage to get myself laid for the first time until I was a senior in high school (and to be honest, it was late in the year at that). But I wasn't shy now, was I? My eyes began tracking through the crowds, taking in the lean forms of the fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen year old girls, their tight asses, their firm breasts. I began to imagine the possibilities and my fifteen-year-old dick began to stir in my 501s. Although I intended to do as much good with the gift I had been given; there were so many things I could change or prevent now that I had pre-knowledge of it; it certainly wouldn't hurt to have a little fun; would it? Of course not.

My musings were interrupted by Mike.

As we came to the front of the school he jerked my arm, pulling me backward. "We'd better go around the other side." He said, alarmed. "Richard Fuckface and his asshole friends are standing over there."

I looked where he was indicating and saw a real blast from the past. Richard Fairview was one of many bullies at our high school. He was about six feet tall and about as dumb as a person could get while still remembering to draw breath every couple of seconds. He'd been one of the terrors of our school, his scam, when he wasn't beating people's ass for the fun of it, to post himself at an entry point and rip off lunch money from arriving kids that were dumb enough to approach him. As always he had five or six companions lounging there with him. They were all smoking cigarettes and eyeing the approaching throngs, looking for targets. I'd had my ass beaten by him a time or two. Had that happened yet? I wondered, unable to place just when those occurrences had taken place.

A smile formed on my face. In the ensuing seventeen years I'd learned a lot both about psychology and physical combat. Bullies, I knew, relied mostly on the complacency of their victims. They relied on their size and intimidation to get what they wanted. Very few of them actually knew how to fight. I, however, had worked for years at a job where physical assault by one's patients or one's patient's family members was an almost daily happening. Though somewhat of a wimp in high school, life had taught me a thing or two about hand to hand fighting. The most important thing I'd learned was that, while getting hit by a fist was painful, it wasn't THAT painful.

"C'mon." I told Mike, smiling still, heading directly towards Richard and his co-horts.

"Are you high?" Mike asked me. "He's got his friends there. I could kick his ass any day one on one but his friends will jump in."

"No they won't." I told Mike confidently. "Just watch. Stand back and don't do anything. His friends won't get in on anything."

"Bill?" He said, alarmed, but I strode purposefully forward. Reluctantly, he followed. I had to give him credit. He was loyal, willing to back me up in the face of these six guys.

"Trust me." I assured him. "Richard's about to fall from grace, big time."

As we approached the gang of bullies Richard himself eyed us and stepped forward, blocking our paths. To our right were the chain- linked bike racks. To our left was the school's perimeter fence. It was Richard's kind of tactical situation all right, blocking his victim in.

"Hey Billy-fag." He hailed, his gray, stupid eyes boring into me. "You got change for a dollar?"

I stared back at him, barely able to suppress a smile. "Yeah." I told him, my voice full of mocking contempt. "But you ain't getting' it."

He looked at me in shock, almost stepping backwards at my boldness. I think that he would have backed down right there except for the fact that a group of junior and senior girls were happening by at that particular moment and, hearing my words, stopped to see what would transpire.

"What did you say you little fuckin' pussy?" He enquired toughly, in disbelief.

I had to search through my memory banks to come up with a statement that was suitably insulting to a high school bully from the eighties. After a moment I came up with one. "I said, why don't you suck my dick asshole, if you're not too tired from fuckin' your momma all night."

His friends, as well as the group of teenagers gave a collective gasp. "You gonna let him say that shit to you Richie?" One of them asked, goading him.

"You're dead motherfucker." Richard said, advancing towards me, his fists clenched and raised in a pseudo-boxing stance.

I snorted contempt, which again almost gave him pause. He threw a haymaker right at my face, which, had it impacted, probably would have broken my nose. But it didn't. I easily sidestepped to the left, allowing his fist to whiz through thin air and spin his body around. Once he was turned away from me I stepped forward and drove my right elbow into his back, right above the kidney, as hard as I could. There was a solid thump followed by the whooshing of air being ejected from his lungs and a startled, painful cry from his lips. His hands dropped instantly down and he staggered forward two steps, holding his back.

I raised my right foot off of the ground and slowly placed it against his ass. With a hard shove of my leg, he was propelled into the chain link of the bike racks, making a musical jing as the metal was struck. He bounced off and landed on his ass on the grass, a stupid expression of surprise on his face.

While his friends gaped, unmoving at this development, the girls all erupted in fits of derisive laughter, pointing at him. As I'd planned, this infuriated him. He leapt to his feet and charged me, meaning to grab hold of me and take me to the ground, I was sure. But he hadn't learned from his first attack. He threw his weight forward and, once again, I easily stepped around him. As he passed I kicked his feet out from beneath him. He became horizontal for a brief second before crashing to the pavement, scratching up his hands and knees.

As he tried to get to his feet I hooked my foot forward, as if I was performing a kick-off in a football game, and connected directly with his face. There was an audible crunch as his nose was shattered along with several teeth. I pulled my foot back and watched as blood began to pour onto the ground from his face. He seemed quite dazed, frozen in place, so I stepped forward and kicked once more, this time connecting with his rib cage. I felt the crunch of ribs fracturing this time and Richie finally collapsed unmoving to the ground, guarding his side.

I looked at his friends, who were staring at me, mouths agape in disbelief. They could have stomped me to death in less than a minute had they wished but, as I'd figured, they didn't. I locked gazes with them, putting on the meanest expression I could call up. "You guys want some of this too?" I asked toughly.

None of them answered. They averted their eyes from me, finding objects to peruse on the ground and in the sky.

"Get the fuck out of here then." I commanded and they instantly obeyed, moving quickly down the path to the school's entrance.

I looked up to see expressions of unbelieving awe on Mike, the junior and senior girls, and several freshmen kids that had approached. The freshmen would probably had been Richard's next victims had I not taken action. They were looking at me as if I was Jesus Christ right down from the cross.

I smiled shyly. "None of you saw anything, did you?" I asked.

From the ground Richard was moaning, snorting blood out of his nose and mouth, and holding his side. They all looked at him for a moment and then back at me. A chorus of 'no's ensued.

"Good." I nodded, heading towards the school entrance once again. I looked back at Mike, who was still staring, unmoving, at Richard. "You coming?" I asked him.

"Huh?" He nearly jumped. "Oh, yeah."

We entered the school, walking through the crowded halls, hearing the slamming of locker doors and the babble of thousands of conversations.