My Bully

I might still be trick or treating today if it weren’t for a boy names Mark. Mark was a huge kid, bigger than even my fifth-grade teacher, a man,? and? who used to delight in bullying me.? Mark was in my grade but about five years older than me and was as dumb as a rock. I think his original class had graduated during the first ?Eisenhauer administration. Mark looked like he had been shaving since birth. The primary hobby of Mark was bullying kids ?smaller than him, which was essentially ?all boys in my class. Mark was an equal opportunity bully. ?Any boy in my class was a potential target.

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?One Halloween when I was walking home, my trick or treating completed and carrying a big pillowcase stuffed with candy, Mark seemed to appear out of nowhere and smashed a water balloon inside my pillowcase. The next Halloween was even worse, when Mark simply stole my pillowcase filled with treats.

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Fast forward three years, and I had grown a half-foot and put on forty pounds. Puberty was starting to kick in. Mark was foolish enough to start on me again, and we fought. I was like Ralphie in A Christmas Story when he pummeled his yellow-eyed bully, Scott Farkus. Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry character would have been proud of me. And pounding my bully’s face to bloody mush really did make my day. I had my share of fights as a kid and wasn’t reluctant to mix it up when necessary.