Revenge of the nerd
I think I should have been born in a different time, or place... a time when using one's voice was not needed. I hate being around loud people, I feel like just because of their loudness I am the object of everyone’s stares. I don’t know when it started but I know I have always despite my size felt meek and timid in a way. I think being a rather big guy has spared me a lot of scrapes with bullies, but it was not always this way...
I remember his name because he had the same name as my dad, Roger, and he was a motherfucker of a kid! Real mean and hateful. Even though I was only in first grade I could see he was evil and no good. Back then I was not a big kid, but a shrimp, and I always seemed to be directly in his line of fire. It seemed like his hatefulness zoomed in on me because of my silence.
He never bothered the cockeyed kid or the fat girl... no, he always zoomed in on the quiet kid; me. I remember him sitting there and calling me names, knocking my books out of my hand or tripping me. My only refuge was the classroom where I was lucky enough to be in a different class than he was.
In class, I would daydream of finding my voice and verbally ripping him a new asshole. Insulting him good and proper in front of everyone. I dreamed I would rise above and be the king! But really… who was I fooling when I had trouble even going to the front of the class to read... I was not gonna do shit, but take his shit. I was a first grader stuck in my own Hell.
I remember when we took our milk cartons and opened them up and planted a single pinto bean in it, and it would sprout into a plant we could take home to our moms. We took markers and construction paper and fancied up the cartons. I must say - I was quite proud of mine, and was looking forward to giving it to my mom. It was not to be… Roger wound up running into me and smashing my plant and carton all to hell! I hated him and wanted to kill him. As I fought back the tears I planned my revenge.
What should I do to exercise vengeance for myself and my plant? Should I take a knife to school and plunge it into his neck? Should I steal a handgun and go to school and blast his ass to hell? No, all I did was getting sick.
Like I said, I was a scrawny kid, and for the most part a sickly kid... I did not beef up until 6th grade. On this particular day it was the same shit as always; Roger holding court on the bus picking on the meek and timid nerds. I had hoped his radar would miss me and that he would pick on someone else... no such luck.
He started out by teasing me about my pants and how it seemed like I wore the same pair every single day because I was poor... that’s when I felt the first wave of sickness hit me, and I puked all over the floor in the bus aisle... It wasn’t a little pile of puke either, but rather everything my little body could possibly hold - coming up in a big gush out my mouth and nose. Tears were stinging in my eyes but I could see Roger take full advantage of the situation. He jumped up and started to do a shuffle, dancing around my puke - laughing at me. Then it happened… The bus driver suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing Roger to lose his footing so he fell and landed right in my puddle of puke on his back! I could only see the horror on his face for the briefest second, because just at that time the next wave of sickness hit me and I unleashed a second spray of vomit - all over his chest.
We came to a halt and Mr. Grady, the driver, was at the back of the bus in seconds trying to help this puke covered motherfucker to his feet... I believe he was actually smiling, because he hated Roger as much as I did, and here was the bully of the bus; covered from head to toe in my vomit, crying and gagging. The other kids’ laughter was like music to my ears... this time it was not at me, but with me, and I felt like that king I had dreamed to be!
Roger never really messed with me much after that. I don’t know if it was because he was scared that I would puke on him again, or if he learned a lesson... My only regret was that the school year was almost over and I would only get to feel like King Shit for a few more weeks... but goddamn, they were the sweetest weeks of my young life.
by
Ace Frehley's Beer
