Enemy in a Pinnie
No name ever made me shudder more than Michael Bradburn. He was a brutal boy who taunted the toddlers with terrible tact and titty twisters. Though he stood only 4 feet tall, his curly blond hair outlined his short stout ugly face, and only his calves could be deemed extraordinary.
He slapped me on the back of the head once, as I walk beneath the pavilion to math class. I remember before it happened, I was thinking about Big League Chew. "You think baseball players really chew that stuff. While they're in the dugout, are their boxes of Big League Chew chock full of the delicious strips of sugary satisfaction? Which flavor is Nolan Ryan's fav..." and before I could get my thought in, I felt a slap to the back of my head that sent my day dream dancing. I felt a rush of hot air pass me, and as I glanced ahead, all I could see were golden curls in the wind and a pair of extraordinary calves that carved a path through a pack of unsuspecting innocent victims.
I'll never forget the sounds he made as he run like a tsunami through dandelions and daisies. It was a low dull chuckle that cackled with every breathe of his short stupid lungs. "Huh...huh...huh..."
We both played soccer. That was the extend of commonalities. He was actually a decent player, though I would never stoop that high as to tell him that. One day in the spring of 4th grade, I was given a chance to deface the beast in a match of 3 v 3 soccer. I remember the sun shined bright in the cloudless sky, and the dirt laid dull in the patchy farmland of a field. My team was skins, and the enemies were in pinnies. A battle erupted and the dirt climbed high beneath our cleats. 1 goal for the allies... 2 for the Axis... 3 for the X-Men...2 for the Alliance of Evil.
When the class bell clattered, it was tied 4 to 4. Michael Bradburn made the boisterous boast that noone could stop a shot from his rocket right foot. He made the statement that if anyone on my team could stop his shot from hitting the back of the net, he would quit playing soccer forever. Without thinking, my right hand shot to the sky and my feet fell forward. "I can stop your shot!" I whispered with authority to the top of toes. Out came the laugh heard round the class..."Huh...huh...huh..." After that moment, my thoughts began to get fuzzy as fear failed my clarity. I remember he said something stupid like "You couldn't stop a toilet from clogging." Though I never understood it as a child, I can now see the many curled up layers of genius that were bestowed upon my ears with that fluid insult.
We moved to our places of power and the cheers of our teammates encircled our battlefield. My feet centered on the goal line, and my confidence skewed on scene. His calves sit proud in position, ready to strike the ball with precision. We lock eyes and his feet spring forward. His right foot smashes the ball with bark and sends it flying towards the mark. I lept to the ground as it come towards my right foot and brought a few fingers to the fight. It was just enough to send the ball towards to post. In slow motion I saw it sail off the pole and back out towards the enemy in the pennie. The beast was defeated. I thought to myself, "I will forever be remembered as the knight who banished the beast forever!"
The next day he kicked my ass on the soccer field. Technically he wasn't playing. What an ironic asshole.
He slapped me on the back of the head once, as I walk beneath the pavilion to math class. I remember before it happened, I was thinking about Big League Chew. "You think baseball players really chew that stuff. While they're in the dugout, are their boxes of Big League Chew chock full of the delicious strips of sugary satisfaction? Which flavor is Nolan Ryan's fav..." and before I could get my thought in, I felt a slap to the back of my head that sent my day dream dancing. I felt a rush of hot air pass me, and as I glanced ahead, all I could see were golden curls in the wind and a pair of extraordinary calves that carved a path through a pack of unsuspecting innocent victims.
I'll never forget the sounds he made as he run like a tsunami through dandelions and daisies. It was a low dull chuckle that cackled with every breathe of his short stupid lungs. "Huh...huh...huh..."
We both played soccer. That was the extend of commonalities. He was actually a decent player, though I would never stoop that high as to tell him that. One day in the spring of 4th grade, I was given a chance to deface the beast in a match of 3 v 3 soccer. I remember the sun shined bright in the cloudless sky, and the dirt laid dull in the patchy farmland of a field. My team was skins, and the enemies were in pinnies. A battle erupted and the dirt climbed high beneath our cleats. 1 goal for the allies... 2 for the Axis... 3 for the X-Men...2 for the Alliance of Evil.
When the class bell clattered, it was tied 4 to 4. Michael Bradburn made the boisterous boast that noone could stop a shot from his rocket right foot. He made the statement that if anyone on my team could stop his shot from hitting the back of the net, he would quit playing soccer forever. Without thinking, my right hand shot to the sky and my feet fell forward. "I can stop your shot!" I whispered with authority to the top of toes. Out came the laugh heard round the class..."Huh...huh...huh..." After that moment, my thoughts began to get fuzzy as fear failed my clarity. I remember he said something stupid like "You couldn't stop a toilet from clogging." Though I never understood it as a child, I can now see the many curled up layers of genius that were bestowed upon my ears with that fluid insult.
We moved to our places of power and the cheers of our teammates encircled our battlefield. My feet centered on the goal line, and my confidence skewed on scene. His calves sit proud in position, ready to strike the ball with precision. We lock eyes and his feet spring forward. His right foot smashes the ball with bark and sends it flying towards the mark. I lept to the ground as it come towards my right foot and brought a few fingers to the fight. It was just enough to send the ball towards to post. In slow motion I saw it sail off the pole and back out towards the enemy in the pennie. The beast was defeated. I thought to myself, "I will forever be remembered as the knight who banished the beast forever!"
The next day he kicked my ass on the soccer field. Technically he wasn't playing. What an ironic asshole.
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