Fighting

I have been in about three fights in my life. Here is the glorious history, not necessarily chronological.

#1

This one is from when I lived in Connecticut. I had neighbors who were always skateboarding, biking, scootering and such. They were pretty extreme. Sometimes they let me play with them, but a lot of the time they didn't, probably because I was an irritating little asshole. One of the children did not get along with me at all. I had my friend Mikey over, and we were outside, when we came across this young specimen of totally Xtreme manhood. We had a heated verbal battle.

Me: You suck
Him: You suck
Me: Your mom has sex with people!
Him: You;re talking about MY mother? Your mama is so fat she can sit around the house... literally!
Me: You;re stupid! I hate you! Your mom is so stupid she starved in a supermarket!

Or something like that. Mikey had ran off out of fright, and I eventually ended up getting punched in the stomach. I walked home doubled over and out of breath. I thought of various elaborate revenge schemes for several months, most of which involved me kidnapping and torturing him. That asshole.

#2

I'm especially proud of this one. It occurred when I went to Camp Ramah, which is where I learned how to swear.. or maybe not how to particularly decently, but at least what the swear words were. But that's not really part of my story.

One night, a female counselor came to our cabin to tell us about when she worked at/visited a dairy farm. She talked about how you could hold out two fingers and the calves would "milk" them. We were all being obnoxious and interrupting her. None of them liked me, but I decided to make a joke. Holding out two fingers as she had, I addressed her: "Milk me." The rest of my cabin broke out laughing. Not so bad, I thought. I'm funny. However, I soon noticed my counselor was very angry. I was the only one who did not see the innuendo. For about a second. Then I realized it probably had something to do with sex. Maybe even with blowjobs, which the campers seemed to talk about so much. (Being the oldest child in my family, I've never been the wise one who was able to impress everyone by talking about dirty things. I was always one of the last to find out.) After the female counselor left, we all got a very stern talking to. Especially me. Any chance of fun I had was completely ruined by the fact that my cabin was now calling me "Bessie the Cow" or constantly going up to me saying "Milk me!" One camper was especially persistent. After the others had long stopped, he kept at it. One day, I told him not to, and he did. My weak little fist was buried in his stomach, and then I started running with his hands pummeling my back. then counselors came and broke it up. Quite epic.

#3

This was last Halloween. My friend's brother went trick or treating with us, even though he didn't want to. He thought we were too old and should be at a party. He was very grouchy, and I felt a sudden sense of purpose as he yelled at a friend, who had, for the first time in all that I had known her, gotten very visibly upset. I went up to him and elbowed him in the stomach. Then he started hitting me, or rather trying to, but thankfully missing, because I'm a skinny little bitch and he's a rather burly young man, who is actually incredibly nice. Pretty much instant regret. We;re on quite good terms now, though. Not quite as fun a story. I would have deserved it if he actually hit me at all, but by gosh, you just don't yell like that. Especially not in front of Josh... or should I say, Prince Valiant?