Farewell Party Part 3

.. as promised, the story continues...

I rounded the corner and headed down the stairs that lay between the 2 apartment buildings. At the bottom of the steps I turned once more and walked with menacing purpose towards the domicile of the punks in question that lay at the end of the building. The door was closed and I could see through the closed vertical blinds in the sliding glass door on the porch that there were some people within, the slow swinging of a few of the blinds a testament to the fact that they had noticed my approach. I knocked on the door.

No response.

I had expected as much so I knocked again, more loudly this time.

Again, no response.

Then I pounded on the door, my ire having raised with each attempt. "Open the f**king door. NOW!" I exclaimed, the menace in my voice obvious.

No response.

As I was more than just a bit annoyed at this point, I put my shoulder into the door, nearly taking it clean off its hinges. "I said, 'Open the godd**n door! This is BULLSH1T!"

Again with the no response.

I considered my options and decided it might be best not to actually take the door down, though the bestial side of my anger truly desired it. So I pounded one last time and added a threat, "Do you really want me to call and get the police involved? Open the f**King door!"

Still no response.

Well, rewind to the night before...

G** had gotten angry in a homophobic episode too lengthy to retell in this tale, the end result of which was that he had broken my friend, S***'s screen door. What's my point?

Well, I stood there and decided to give the sliding glass door a try. Perhaps THAT would surprise them a bit, eh? Yes, I will admit that in my lightly buzzed and very angered state that reason had at least partially left me.

Unfortunately, that door was locked and barred. But as I stared at the people through the spaces between the vertical blinds, merrily talking shite away on my behalf at my ineffectual attempts at entry, my brain latched on to a tiny thought.

"Screen door."

Hmm, well, at least the separation from a man and his beer did not have to go all for naught. So I felt it a fair trade for the aggravation and the troubles he has caused, I separated the screen door from the frame with the thought of fair trade for another screen door in somewhat less than ideal condition. Fair is fair, yes?

As I headed back up towards the front, I saw K* approaching (S***'s younger of 2 future Marines) with one of he and S*'s friends. K* had come down to see what the situation was and as we met at the bottom of the stairs, I handed K* the screen door and told him to go install it. K* took off like a bolt and his friend, C*, approached the punks apartment.

And the door to that apartment opened so I went with C* to the door. I expected the punk at the door to close it before I got there but he did not... so, naturally, I walked right on in.

This apartment is typical of young bachelors who have no money - it was sparsely decorated with second-hand furniture. A small television adorned one corner of the living room area and 2 worm-starving couches lined the walls, upon which most of those gathered sat. The kitchen was even more empty than the fridge, which contained all of 5 items aside from my beer.

The five kids in this place, including G*, were a bit surprised at my entry and they vocalized a protest at how I wasn't allowed in. I went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed my case of beer, much to the chagrin of the gathered crew. "This is MY beer. I never said you could bring it down here. So I am taking it back. GO ahead, test me."

Yes, I was NOT pleased.

I stomped back to the front door and turned to G* and asked him what his problem is. He in turn did what we in the south call "bucked up". He stood up and told me how I was being 'rude' by walking in somewhere he wasn't wanted. I, naturally, reminded him of the simple fact that, "hey, the beer is mine. You wanna talk about being rude, let's talk about stealing my beer."

The rest of those gathered might have said something but it was drowned out by the conflict with G*. He approached me and chest-bumped me. Now, he has a few inches in height on me, but I definitely outsize him by a good bit (probably too much, really, but we're not talking about my figure right now, are we?)

He insulted me about that aforementioned figure, in fact. In all honesty, he wasn't really making much sense - he was simply a bundle of anger and I just wanted to know what his problem is. So I asked him. Oh, I believe his actual words were "fat f**k", but I could be mistaken.

His response was to insult me again and tell me that I needed to leave immediately. This time he physically shoved me out the door. I suppose he expected me to fall but I did not - I DID have to take 3 steps to stop my backwards progress. All this time I simply asked him these questions, "G*. Why are you doing this? What are you so mad about?"

He then told me I had 5 seconds to leave or he was going to, I believe the phrase was "kick my ass". So I asked him once again, "G*, what is your problem? Why are you being this way? We have this party for you and your friends, we got all this food and drink, and you're really being an ass. Why?"

He started counting down.

I didn't expect him to hit me. I know this kid. He and I generally got along well - we enjoy many of the same PS2 games, of all things, and we both play music. I've taught him some things on guitar and helped him out of a jam or two in the past year alone. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what had pressed him to such a precipice - perhaps it was fear of the changes to occur at actually joining the Marines? Perhaps the stress of the last summer?

"4"

I'm certain that at least part of it was the fact that he couldn't exactly back down in the presence of his peers, even though most of them are worth less than used toilet paper. Whatever the reason, I suppose the sum of all of this was more than I expected.

"3"

I saw K* round the steps once again and was sprinting towards the apartment - I suppose the shouting that G* was doing could be heard all over.

"2"

I turned my head to K*, which basically left G* with a completely free and unobstructed view of my profile. I stood in a relaxed stance with my right arm closer to G*.

"1"

I thought to myself, "Well, if it's coming, here it comes."

*WHAM*

"That little punk-ass hit me," I thought to myself, very surprised. He had caught me square on my right jaw, right near the base where it curves back up towards my right ear. My upper body spun to the left and down with the blow.

I immediately spun back up to gaze at G* with a completely calm mask upon my face. Under the surface my lizard brain roiled to be released, to unleash mayhem upon this kid, to let loose the dogs of hell and crush him... Perhaps some of this rage seeped over into my countenance for he had taken a few steps back and his eyes seemed a bit rounder than they had been. Perhaps also he was a bit surprised that his punch, a complete free shot, had done less than he had hoped or anticipated.

I must admit to the evil side of pride at having given him a completely blindsided free shot and still I stood, my jaw hurt a little bit, but I had not moved a step away from the blow nor was I in any capacity disoriented from it, other than the surprise that he had actually come to that line and crossed it. I also enjoyed a bit the look in his eyes as I turned back to face him.

My mind was ablaze with conflicting thoughts about how to handle this situation. I was "strapped", meaning I was carrying my concealed pistol as well as a 5" folding blade knife. The knife is a tool, the pistol for self-defense. I immediately considered the consequences of getting into a scuffle. Fights NEVER work out the way you might envision them, regardless of your training. There is always a scuffle and clothing gets ripped and people go tumbling. I was not about to shoot this kid or even pull the gun for this but I certainly did not want to have it fall out or go off accidentally during a fight. If it fell out, one of those punks from the apartment would suddenly have a live gun with real live and deadly self-defense ammo in it... THEN what would happen? I shudder at the possibilities. Considering his rage and the fact that knives are the weapon of choice in emotionally charged attacks, I didn't want that falling out of my pocket during a fight either.

But I wanted to hit him. I'll admit it. I REALLY want to pound the ever-livin sh1t outta him and I KNOW I could have done it.

And what would the other 4 have done? Who knows? It might have become a brawl with K* getting involved.

But above all things, I looked at this kid, G*. I know his mother. Could I face her knowing that I mangled her child? I couldn't bring myself to do it.

As I was considered all these things, I simply turned to K*, giving him another free look at my profile - my cockiness at having taken one free shot already was really trying to push that fact in G*'s face. "Hey, here's another free look. I'm turning my back to you KNOWING you will definitely hit me with my face turned and I'm doing it anyway." So I was rubbing it in a bit.

And he only swung once. If he had really wanted to "kick my ass", as he put it, methinks he would've kept going instead of just one punch. Maybe he felt he had made his statement. Maybe there was fear? Maybe he thought I'd go down with one punch? I don't know, but, this entered the equation as "he really doesn't want to fight" at the time...

So, I slowly turned to K* and handed the case of beer to him and in a voice thick with rage overbrimming said, "K*, take the beer" and turned back to face G*.

It seemed like I was thinking forever but I know in reality but a few seconds had passed.

Reason and pity for his mother won out over the savage beast thrashing at its cage within to be unleashed... but, never fear, the smart-ass rules all and never stops in me. I turned back to him and put the back of my right hand to him and, while giving him the brush off movement of dismissal with my hand, I said to him, "You've made your choice. Go ahead. Go ahead and go play with your little friends."

Then I calmly turned my back on him, very slowly and deliberately, as if to say, "Here I am... I gave you a freebie... whatch gonna do?" and walked slowly back up to where the rest of the party awaited.

You would think that would cover it all, right?

Nope... there's more around the bend...
.
.