The Whole Bloody Mess

Did I ever tell you guys about the time I kicked a kid in the neck? I seem to have this vague recollection of writing some little blurb about it in some other post, but I'm positive I didn't do the tale justice. So here it is, the complete, uncut version of the story about when I kicked that kid in the neck.

It must have been in like fifth grade. Fourth or fifth. I guess fifth. Anyway, we were playing soccer in the gravelly area behind the admin mods (hey, it was a Christian school; we did what we could with what we had). This little punk kid who I'd always kinda disliked, though for the life of me, I can't remember why, just wouldn't shut up. I have no idea what he actually said, but make no mistake, it was most definitely something earth-shatteringly annoying like "You walk funny." Well, we got into a shouting match. I didn't really have a very well-mantained temper at the time, so I lost it pretty quick. The shouting escalated into that stupid kid thing everyone used to do: nonverbally threatening your opponent by bringing your fist back over your shoulder, as if you're gonna punch 'em. We both did that for a while, unable to think of what we should do next, since neither of us was backing down. Finally, I decided to just walk away. He apparently decided this was as good an opportunity as any to say something to my back, and that just sent me over the edge. For whatever reason, he was bent over when I turned around and ran at him. Not much, but enough. I kicked as hard as I could, not really aiming for anything in particular, but hoping I'd nail a sweet spot, like his shin or his balls. Psh!

I hit him squarely in the neck, and in an instant, I froze. The look on his face was horrifying. Not knowing my own strength (or perhaps simply overestimating it), I naturally assumed the worst. "Oh my God, I killed him," I said to myself. And his eyes seemed to agree. They said to me, "You killed me. I didn't think you'd do it, but you did." I was scared out of my mind. I thought, "Jeez. I killed a kid. I'm going to go to prison. I'm gonna get the electric chair, and they're gonna fry me up good!" As tears streamed down his face, he ran straight to the office. I thought I was dead. I thought for sure I was going to get expelled from school, stripped naked, and forced to trudge the walk of shame over broken glass and sharp rocks. No such punishment came, though. Not a single teacher came up to me at all. To this day, that part has always bugged me more than the fact that I'm a viscious, monstrous, heartless, neck-kicked ghoul. That, I can live with. It's just the waiting that bothers me. I know it's still coming. YOU HEAR THAT? I'M WAITING FOR YOU! BRING IT ON!

Now, it may seem like I'm writing this out of regret. Not so. I really didn't like that kid. I'm sure either he's over it by now, or I actually did kill him, in which case he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. For whatever reason, I'm pretty sure I didn't see him again for the rest of my stint at Seattle Christian Elementary School. Would I do it over again? Uh... Hells yes I would! Who else has a story about killing some kid just by kicking him in the neck? Like, no one, that's who.