Bloodletting of the Primates

      I turned back to face Billy, and he looked smug and filled with glee, since he was expecting to destroy me. He was ready to inflict the most possible damage to both my body and dignity. Suddenly, some unspoken signal caused us both to attack each other at the same time.

      Much to the surprise of both Billy and the mob, I finished him off quickly. I had gone into automatic overdrive. I experienced a red-hazed tunnel vision and became practically mindless. I peppered his face and body quickly and with surprising ease. Then, with the deftness of a Martin or Fisher, I picked him up, threw him down, and flipped him on his back just like a Fisher would flip a porcupine on it’s back. I commenced to pound the living hell out of him. He was unable to deflect any of my blows.

      Remotely, I heard a few of his friends threatening to jump in and pound me. The cool survivalist part of me acknowledged this possibility and was ready to deal with it. Their help never came. During the fever of combat, I did not realize that my sister had run the block to our house to get my mother. 

      Story has it that she ran into the house, screaming, "Mom, Mom, Laz is in a fight!"

      My mother was startled. She was so used to hearing that I was getting beaten up, or running from a fight. Never did she expect to hear that I was engaging in a fight.

      My mother said, "He's in a fight?"

      My sister cried out, "Yes, and it looks like he is winning!"

      My mother ran outside onto our lawn, and she started jumping up and down crying out, "Come on, Lazarus, kick his ass!!" I never heard any of it.

      I don't know how long the fight had been going on, but at some point Billy stopped resisting. He was lying on his side, curled up in a semi-fetal position, hugging himself.

He was crying and making pitiful mewling sounds. I leaped in and started to choke him. The crowd of kids grew quiet, and finally, two kids who had been worried about my safety earlier in the day came over and gently shook my shoulder and pleaded with me to stop.

      One of them said, "Laz, you're gonna kill him. Please, stop."

That brought me back to my senses. I was still in a daze, and I slowly struggled to stand.

I looked down and saw that Billy was in pain, his face a bloody ruin. He was hurt, scared, and humiliated. His world had been destroyed.

      I felt emotionally spent, and I was overwhelmed by the horror of what I had done.

I felt sickened because I knew that all of what had transpired was irrational and unnecessary. Billy's friends helped him to his feet. I looked around at the other kids. They looked stunned.

      Most of them could not look me in the eye; even many of the kids that feared and hated Billy could not look at me directly. Only a few were gleefully pounding me on the back and congratulating me. None of this gave me any joy. There was no pleasure in this victory.