RE: Throwing Down
April 22, 2012 at 2:45 pm
(This post was last modified: April 22, 2012 at 2:50 pm by Cyberman.)
As a general rule I tend to avoid the sort of conflicts that might end up in violence, even if it means coming over as a coward I prefer that to getting hurt physically. However, there was one occasion of which I am particularly proud.
Several years ago, before we moved in together, my Sam lived on her own about three miles from me and we'd often travel up on the bus together. In fact I spent more time living there with her than back home with my parents. Anyway, we'd made sort of an enemy of this total dick, who rarely resisted the opportunity to sit behind us and act like one, and a particularly childish one at that (throwing bits of paper at us, pathetic taunts, that sort of thing) before leaving the bus a few stops before ours.
On this occasion, we'd noticed him sitting with his pal at the back, eating some fast food or other. As the bus went on I heard this wanker whispering something about "throw it in her face" as they passed by (I've got damn good hearing). As Sam was by the window, this meant they had to walk right by me, so I watched out of the corner of my eye as they approached. I saw his arm go back with his empty paper rolled up in his hand, then without warning I flashed my hand out, grabbed his wrist, twisted and threw him on his arse. By now I was trembling, both at what I'd done and the expectation of reprisal for which I wasn't anything like as prepared. He stood up shakily and started mouthing something, then his mate said that they were going to miss their stop and dragged him down the bus.
Interestingly, several of the passengers who must have been familar with the twats congratulated me. Not to mention, of course, that I was Sam's hero - a role on which I capitalised to the hilt.
(ETA: No idea how this fits in the poll though.)
Several years ago, before we moved in together, my Sam lived on her own about three miles from me and we'd often travel up on the bus together. In fact I spent more time living there with her than back home with my parents. Anyway, we'd made sort of an enemy of this total dick, who rarely resisted the opportunity to sit behind us and act like one, and a particularly childish one at that (throwing bits of paper at us, pathetic taunts, that sort of thing) before leaving the bus a few stops before ours.
On this occasion, we'd noticed him sitting with his pal at the back, eating some fast food or other. As the bus went on I heard this wanker whispering something about "throw it in her face" as they passed by (I've got damn good hearing). As Sam was by the window, this meant they had to walk right by me, so I watched out of the corner of my eye as they approached. I saw his arm go back with his empty paper rolled up in his hand, then without warning I flashed my hand out, grabbed his wrist, twisted and threw him on his arse. By now I was trembling, both at what I'd done and the expectation of reprisal for which I wasn't anything like as prepared. He stood up shakily and started mouthing something, then his mate said that they were going to miss their stop and dragged him down the bus.
Interestingly, several of the passengers who must have been familar with the twats congratulated me. Not to mention, of course, that I was Sam's hero - a role on which I capitalised to the hilt.
(ETA: No idea how this fits in the poll though.)
At the age of five, Skagra decided emphatically that God did not exist. This revelation tends to make most people in the universe who have it react in one of two ways - with relief or with despair. Only Skagra responded to it by thinking, 'Wait a second. That means there's a situation vacant.'
