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Fucked Up College Kids File 287
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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me and a gun
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When I was seven or eight years old, there was a kid in my neighborhood
that received his fair share of abuse from the others. He was real
small, a little younger than I am, and feisty as hell. We often wondered
if he liked the abuse since he continually asked for it in his own
way. I don't recall all of the events but one day he decided to strike
out at those around him for his previous punishment. Some of my friends
and I were playing behind some of the condos when he came toward us
brandishing a knife. It was apparent he took the foot long butcher
knife from his kitchen, but the size alone made us think about things.
He only chased me swinging wildly for about five minutes, but it left
a mark on me for a long time.
Many parts of my childhood are a blur by choice. I can't remember exactly
how old I was at the time, must have been twelve or thirteen years old.
The local bullie was a boy named scotty. Everyone in the neighborhood
knew he was a mean spirited boy with way too much anger in him. His family
was a good model of why he ended up that way. When police showed to their
door for a noise complaint they sicked dogs on the two cops.. after being
asked to put the shotgun away. scotty had this thing where he liked to
pick on me more than others for his own reasons.
I remember looking for one of my cats who had been missing for days. It
was a nice day out and I had hurried over to where someone saw my cat.
Going barefoot didn't bother me since I was fairly used to it. Didn't find
the cat but ran across scotty. As soon as he saw me the fire in his
eyes consumed him and he began to chase me. My only thought was to go
straight for my house since that was the only place that could guarantee
my safety. Damn he was a fast runner. I had speed on him as well as a good
25 yard head start. The first half mile was no problem as I stayed ahead
of him only occasionally looking back to check the distance. His persistance
was admirable as he kept chasing me. Trouble hit me after that first half
as I couldn't run on the grass any more. I was forced to run on a small
dirt field littered with tiny jagged rocks. Each step sent bolts of pain
up my legs and I felt the rocks digging into my feet. Something in my
mind must have reminded me that the pain he offered would be worse than
the rocks. I did make it home finally, and avoided a fight.
In the south you run across stacks of hay bails in developed neighborhoods.
It is commonly used for putting around tree beds, in areas where grass
is soon to grow, etc. Often times there would be hundreds of the bails
stacked in different parts of the neighborhood, and as usual, would become
a sort of playground for everyone. Not only could we jump around and play
on them, but we could move them about and make our forts and our castles.
After a while of playing on one of these stacks, some friends and I had
left a sort of 'well' in the stack. After my friend Rob left to go home
for a minute, scotty showed up out of nowhere. That all to familiar look
crossed his eyes and he approached me quickly. There wasn't a chance in
hell of me running or getting away from him so I took my punishment. Rather
than hit me for a while he decided to shove me face first into this 'well'
and watch me try to get out. It took a while with him kicking the sides
of the hay in.
Three months passed before the next major episode with Scotty. A few
friends and myself were swimming in the pool at the clubhouse enjoying
the cool water on a typically hot day. Low and behold, Scotty shows
up for a swim. I was treading in about six feet of water when he
dove in and swam toward me. (Remember, I was much smaller then.)
I watched him swim past me underwater, and thought he would do just that.
Instead, I found myself being pulled underwater suddenly. When your
mind panics, it is hard to keep track of time or anything around you
as you struggle for air. I have no idea how long I was under, just that
my lungs burned in a way I never knew. I guess I either struggled enough
to get free or he voluntarily released me. I came up out of the water
gasping for air but feeling more discouraged than before. Not a single
one of the thirty people around the pool had bothered to help. Only
to stare at me in amazement.
Years passed before my curse returned. I lived in New Mexico at the time,
in a very nice neighborhood. As it often happens there are always a few
bad apples in every place. The local bad apple happened to be an extremely
violent kid. It was his nature to lie and steal any chance he got. We
all became used to it and began to expect it. Because of his attitude
and lack of intelligence he was often being corrected on just about
everything he said. Because of his lies, he was always being questioned
about his sources. At times when he was caught in one of his bigger lies,
he would often try to intimidate everyone into believing him even though
he knew it never worked. One night we were all playing basketball when
this kid (Neil) decided he would try to pass a big lie on. Almost an
hour later he was really upset because no one would believe him so he
tried starting fights with each of us, one by one. Neil chose the
wrong person eventually and my friend Marc smacked the hell out of him.
As soon as this happened I had a feeling Neil would do something rash
in return. After being hit he turned and headed into the garage we were
near, as I feared, in search of a weapon. My first instinct was to protect
my friends so I ran back to my garage in search of something to deter
Neil from his course of action. I returned to the court holding a pair
of dowel rods ready to defend. I had played around with fighting
'Florantine' (fighting with 2 hands and 2 weapons) and felt I could
at least stop him. Neil emerged from the garage brandishing a pretty
big knife and headed towards my friend Marc seemingly unaware of my
presence. Seeing the new threat he took one more step toward me and
demanded I leave him alone. My reply was surprisingly calm and smooth
as I told him I could not do that. He threw the knife at me instead.
All I remember after that is deflecting the knife with one of my dowels
and asking him to leave.
College life was decent. I kept to myself usually and made a point to
avoid contact with others. I just didn't like dealing with other people
at that point in my life. One day on the way back from some place or
another I pulled up to a stoplight a few blocks from my dorm. I sat
there at the wheel looking forward waiting for the light to change.
Something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye and i glanced
over to the vehicle next to me. I did a doubletake and turned a little
farther to watch the guy in the jeep next to me yelling and screaming..
at me. I know that I hadn't done anything as far as cutting him off or
messing with him on the road. He sat there half banging on his window
yelling and cussing at me. The light changed and I drove on thinking
it was over. But he followed me. I didn't want to deal with this whole
thing so I sped up and headed to the dorm parking lot as quick as possible.
Luckily he underestimated the speed of my little Escort and I got to the
parking lot before he did. I managed to pull in and duck into an empty
slot while he was making one of the turns. I ducked down and he passed me
without event.
I had just logged off the internet and sat back in my dorm room thinking
of what to do next. My friend Chad walked in the room and shut the door
behind him as he usually did. We sat there and talked about some unimportant
issue or another and decided to watch a movie that night. I think I
remember some noise outside the door, then quiet, then a knock. I went to
the door and Chad looked around the corner to see who was there. A turn
of the knob revealed a person holding a large revolver, aiming it at my
head. The first thing I thought about was who held the gun, in this case
a guy from a few doors down. I had never really liked him, but we had
maybe traded half a dozen words since he lived there. Second thing that
went through my mind was why, and that is something I still question to
this day. The third thing was to duck, and I did that. It was only a
split second after I realized the gun was there that I found myself slamming
the door shut while diving into the corner. Likewise, Chad had jumped back
around the corner looking for cover and then something to fight back
with. We sat there behind closed door wondering what would come next.
Ten minutes later I checked the door and he was gone, back to his room
apparently.
Over three years passed before the next situation. A large group of our
friends (several F.U.C.K. writers included BTW) were hanging out at
a bar in downtown Denver. It had been a fun night of drinking, pool,
darts, and playing on computers (yes, the bar had them). Voyager
and I were verbally jousting when he called me a name. Unfortunately
it had bigger effects on a fairly small guy near us. The guy jumped up
and got in Voy's face yelling at him for using the word 'nigger' even
though it wasn't in the formal context, and it wasn't directed at him.
Voy kept explaining that it was a) none of his business b) not going
to be apologized for c) futile to argue with him. While this went on
one of the guy's friends kept back and put his hand in his back pocket.
Out came the switchblade ready for action. Major and I stood behind the
friend with the knife and waited for him to try to move. Major had his
9mm on his back and he kept a hand near. Things difused by themselves
and we kept enjoying the night.. until we left. We had all walked back
to the cars and were waiting there for something or another. Major dropped
his gun off in the car while he and Voy went a block over to check something
out. Twenty minutes later Voy and Major returned from getting jumped
by *8* guys, all lead by the original guy who instigated things. Even
though they held their own and fought the guys off, things would have
gone a lot better had Major kept his gun on him. They weren't looking
for trouble.. just more booze.
Since then it has been a steady barrage of minor situations. Nothing
too big or bad, but equally annoying and somewhat unerving. For a while
I wondered why I was the target of seemingly random abuse. It took me
a while to remember a few times in the past where I had done it, or
friends had done it. One time sticks out in my mind above others. A
good friend in college who was just like a big brother, a sensai, and
best friend all in one once lost it in front of me. He was a very calm
and very disciplined guy, one that never let anything bother him.
We were driving on the campus near the soccer fields in my little car.
Both of us sat there listening to the music enjoying the beautiful
day. With no warning, my friend Shawn turned to his right and yelled
at the top of his lungs, "You fucking whore". His anger was directed
toward some girl walking the opposite direction. The look of terror
on her face indicated that she heard his scream of rage. I sat there
in disbelief for a minute before I asked who that was and where he
knew her from. The look on his face was that of a timid mouse, as
if he was scared of his own shadow. "I don't know why I did that."
After that incident I thought to myself: "If my 'sensai' can lose
it like that, anyone can."
Today, when I leave the house I carry a Rueger P89 9mm with a high
capacity clip full of hollow points. It is rare that I leave the
house without it somewhere in my possession. Instead of carrying
it on my body, I usually have it in a bag which is close to me.
I like having the gun for the basic protection it offers me. I know
it won't help me in some situations, but it will in others. And
'good' odds are better than 'no' odds. I can't begin to explain the
security it gives me knowing that if needed, I can protect my friends
and family if a situation arises. That means the world to me.. always
has, and always will. My friends are my friends and that is the final
word. Nothing you or anyone else says to me will make me lose some
of the ability to protect them.
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Don't ask why, but i have recently found the need to rationalize why
I carry a gun. Not justification for my discomfort, but for someone
else's. And since I respect their opinion, I want to be able to do
that.. this was it. I guess people can also see some similar traits
between Voyager and myself now that I look back at this file. Think
what you will...
.dis.
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