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The Day We Became Men, Chapter 2 |
| Written by Nate Stanford | |
| Monday, 14 July 2008 | |
I poked my pinky finger into the thick green sludgy stuff on my hot dog. I yelped and pulled my finger, experiencing the sensation where something was so cool it was scalding. Jonah gave me a wierd look from across the red picnic table we both sat at in the concession area of the Seneca Park Community Pool. In school we once learned about Newton's laws, so that explained how the relish got me back. I laughed to myself. "I'm already bored. Lets go swim or something." Jonah interrupted my silent joke. "Umm...okay. Let me finish this." "No. You'll finish it, but I'm going to go swim now." Jonah knew how to be a jerk if he wanted to. "Suit yourself," I said back to him. That was what I usually did when he got to be a jerk. My counselor once told me that bullies stop being like that when you just ignore them, because when you feel bad it makes them feel good. "Fine, I'll wait." Success! "What are you lame-o's doing here? This is my table!" A grim voice shot from behind me, almost making me spit out some of the hot dog in my mouth. "Sorry, Randy. We forgot." Jonah timidly answered. I immediately recognized the voice as Randy Clark, the neighborhood jerk. He was 13, two years older than me, and one year older than Jonah. He stood at a hulking 5'11, extremely tall for his age. He thought he could do whatever he wanted because his big brother Sam Clarke, who was 17 and was the junior manager of the McDonald's on Revine Avenue. "Forgot isn't good enough. I don't want to have to do anything I might regret, weakling." Randy boomed. Sometimes Jonah could be a jerk, but when the real jerks came around, Jonah would submit to them. Atleast Randy wasn't addressing me. I immediately stood up and wrapped my hot dog up in my napkin. "Come on, Jonah, do what he says." I was getting a little worried. "Oh, Henry. I didn't even see you there, you're so short. See, weakling? Some people are smart and do what I say." Randy quickly pulled me in towards his body and gave me a stunningly painful noogy. He would have kept going, if Jonah didn't stop him. "Get off my friend!" Jonah yelled at Randy, bravely tossing his condiment-oozing hot dog towards Randy's big head. I watched, the hot dog almost floating in mid-air as it jettisoned at Randy's head, and a smile erupted from my face. I quickly escaped his grasp and was able to see the hot dog smack him right on the nose in an explosion of mustard and onions. Seconds later, Jonah was being picked up by his collar by a mustard-smeared Randy. "Bad move, pipsqueak. I'll let you off today, but tomorrow, I'm going to hunt you down!" he roared to Jonah. He dropped Jonah back into his seat and stormed off, leaving me beaming with pride, but shaking with fear for my best friend. Copyright 2008 Nate Stanford |
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