Tuesday, 15 November 2011

You Called Mummy WHAT?!?

Another from my childhood.  Now I'm not a violent person, but you might think something lurks beneath from the first couple of posts.  Well I *am* mild, unless you upset someone I love, in which case my temper - even as a little un - had, and still has, a blast radius.  This was one such occasion.

I don't recall how old I was, but approximately 10 give or take a year.  I was in (not very) Special Education and it was a sunny lunchtime.  The school was sunk in an artificial dell with raised grass banks - level with the roof of the one storey building - around it.  I was stood on top of one of the banks and a kid - one with whom I had a mutual dislike - was at the bottom.  Now, this little toad had never met my parents but decided to shout at high volume that my Mum was a slag.  [Note to American readers; UK slang equivalent to slut].

Now at this point I walked, with metal calipers up to just under my armpits, using metal elbow crutches, so although I was about 80lbs, I was carrying about 120+lbs with my arms for about 10 hours a day.  Ergo strong little arms.

Well, as a result of the hot temper mentioned in previous posts, a split second after the insult left his mouth, one of my crutches just missed his head, with me following it rapidly down the slope.  At ten you don't think about consequences, but having lobbed a crutch at him, my balance went so I took a controlled crash down the slope, and then stood up.

He yelled 'You nearly hit me then!' to which I yelled back 'I know!  I missed!'  He went a little bit white to be fair and disappeared.  About half an hour later I was summoned from class to the Deputy Headmaster's [Deputy Principal] office.  Now he was a strict disciplinarian who all of us were a bit scared of, but as I was about to find out he was also scrupulously fair.  He asked me 'Why did you throw your crutch at him?'  It never occurred to me to tell anything other than the truth, so I replied 'He called my mummy a slag sir!'  I remember he paused looking at me.  Now I'm not saying I was an angel, but he knew me, and he knew I would never have heard - or used - that word on my own.  So he replied 'Alright.. you can go back to class.. and tell him I want to see him..'  Somewhat relieved I said 'Yes sir' and left.

On my return to the class he was full of venom 'What did he do?  What did he do?' Loving every second of what he thought was my misery.  I looked him square in the face and said 'Nothing.. but he wants to see you...'  I had never before, and haven't since, seen the colour drain quite that rapidly from someone's face.  We didn't see him for the rest of the afternoon.

They say vengeance is a dish best served cold, but the odd hot meal never hurts ;)

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