Bully for Me
by
Sam Loschiavo
Most people can probably recall frightening incidents that happened during their childhood. One that stands out in my mind occurred when I was about fourteen years old and involved a gang of bullies. I and many other kids my age lived in terror of a bunch of older kids known as the East End gang. Their leader was nick-named Peewee because of his small stature. However, he was big in bravado and of course had his buddies to back him up. Everyone in the school from ten to fifteen years old tried to avoid Peewee's gang because of the terrible things they did to their cornered victims, like locking them in empty garages or outhouses, forcing them to take down their pants (sometimes even taking the pants away), stealing bikes, baseballs or other property, and similar unwholesome activities.
Located in the east end was a small grocery store where my mother often sent me to buy meat. I always put up a protest which she attributed to recalcitrance. She didn't know that the real reason was my sheer terror at the thought of entering enemy territory, nor did I ever tell her. So far I had made the trip without incident and arrived home intact.
My good luck was not to last. I shall never forget the day I left the store and was about half a block away when I was suddenly surrounded by Peewee and his gang of about eight. I stood there frozen with fear, and felt my heart thumping like a jackhammer. Peewee sat on a fence in front of a house. In those days, and even today in older neighborhoods, front yards were enclosed by fences. As he sat there with a cocky smirk on his face, dangling his legs, he said:
"Where ya goin' sonny?" I stood at least a head taller than he and he called me 'sonny'! Besides fear, I was beginning to feel anger at being humiliated in this way, and frustration for being helpless in the face of overwhelming odds. Trying not to show my fear, I said, "I'm going home."
"Oh yeah?" he said. "Whattaya got in the package?"
"Meat," I answered. I suddenly had a wild hope that if I gave it to him like one might throw a bone to a threatening dog to divert its attention, he might leave me alone. No such luck! Even as I was contemplating this idea, Peewee snatched the package from my hand and tossed it to his friends who proceeded to throw it back and forth. Maybe they thought that I would try to grab it back, but I just stood there silently. Peewee then ripped it open and threw it into the front yard behind him. At that moment something happened to me. In blind anger or stupidity or both, I grabbed Peewee's dangling legs and flipped him in a heels over-head-somersault into the yard. There was absolute silence. Peewee just lay there. I expected at any moment to be attacked and torn apart by his pals. I started to walk past them and miracle of miracles, they parted just like the Red Sea and let me through. I continued walking with what I thought was nonchalant dignity but expected that at any moment they would recover from the surprise attack and chase after me. There was no telling what tortures they might have had in mind for someone who dared to strike their leader.
Second miracle! No one came after me. I reached home safely with a mixed feeling of relief and newly found confidence. Of course I had to explain why I didn't have the meat. At first I was tempted to tell my mother that a dog had snatched it out of my hand but I knew that on cross-examination, I would be doomed. So I told her what had happened. Not only did she believe me, but now understood why in the past I had been so reluctant to do that errand.
Reinforced by my victory, I wasn't particularly concerned that I might have to face another confrontation at school the next day. It didn't happen. And from that day forward I was never again bothered by bully Peewee or his buddies.