Forbidden Donut

Title: Dissecting a Bully

I wasn't exactly popular in high school. Check that, I was wildly unpopular in high school. Changing schools with the regularity of changing one's underwear will do that to a person. I started my high school career in a new city with zero friends and even less social skills. My natural personality is...off putting to say the least. As I've described before, my certain brand of humor isn't for everyone.

Not fitting in wasn't the problem, standing out was. I didn't have the right clothes, my glasses were too big and my memory is shit. Why was memory a problem, you ask? Because in gym class, I couldn't remember my locker number and instead of having a red, black or blue combination lock I used a pink one so I could easily identify where my stuff was. The problem with that was it made me a target for the semi-muscular, semi-retarded jocks. Having a pink lock automatically made me a homosexual and someone to torment and occasionally sucker punch in the hallway. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a pussy. Every punch or shove I was on the receiving end of was reciprocated but I usually ended up with a nice ass beating.

After about a year and a half of bi-daily antagonization and constant homosexual slurs hurled at me in the hallways and cafeteria I was looking for a way to end it once and for all. Things were getting worse and I couldn't take it anymore. It was then, in my biology class, that I became a legend.

For some reason that boggles my mind, the self proclaimed leader of the pack of assholes that terrorized me was in my honors biology class. He didn't seem particularly smart as he spent most of the lab experiments lighting notebook paper on fire with Bunsen burners and heating up paper clips to ungodly temperatures and flinging them at me. I'm betting that after what happened to him he wished he could have taken all that guff back.

During a three week period our teacher was giving us dissection projects to work on. We started with a cow's eye and heart and worked out way up to a squid and the ever popular frog. The squid was the beginning of the end for the bully that I will continue to refer to as Chump.

Chump thought it would be funny to throw bits of dissected squid at me. Tentacles, cartilage, and ink sack. The ink sack broke and stained my less than fashionable khaki pants. I was irate but the teacher threw him out before I could retaliate. Now you would think that Chump wouldn't be allowed to take part in anymore dissections after that. He did. The next week there he was, sitting at the lab table behind me with his frog, flicking bits of heart and entrails at me. Apparently I was allowed to walk around school for two hours with frog intestines on the back of my shirt. I'd like to thank everyone at West High for that. Fucking scumbags.

I don't know how many schools go past frog anatomy, but the grand finale for us was carving up a cat. That's right, Puss in boots spread open on a desk like a classroom porn directed by Tim Burton.

Knowing Chump's penchant for throwing embalmed meaty bits at me I knew I had to have something in store. Everything was going smoothly until we stared extracting the brain from Fluffy.

Splat.

Some gray matter landed beside me.

I waited.

Splat. Snickering.

Getting closer.

Splat.

Right behind my ear. I remember thinking that cat brain feels eerily similar to a spit ball.

"Chump, get down to the office."

Shit, the teacher caught him. I only had a little time to gather myself. I hurriedly removed the pins from my cat while monitoring Chump's packing process as he zipped his books up and pushed the stool back. My hearing seemed super human. I could hear every breath in the school. I could feel Chump sneering at me as he was preparing to pass by. I took a deep breath.

Just as I saw the first Doc Martin come into my periphery I grabbed my splayed open cat by the tail, stood up and swung all in one motion. The sickening smack of open cat on smug face was like if you dropped a watermelon from high above into a shallow puddle on concrete.

I screamed, releasing the air that I had held waiting for my moment.

"A motherfucker can't swing a dead cat without hitting a faggot around here!"

Stunned silence fell over the class. No one knew what to fucking do. I might as well have just shot the guy in the face and shit in his ear.

Chump doubled over and puked. Then he cried. Then he puked some more. It was beautiful. The shock wore off the class and people started yelling, screaming and laughing. Teachers came running from the adjacent classes to see what the sudden explosion of sound was. I was promptly escorted down to the main office. I knew I had done something big when I had to deal with the principal and not just one of his lackeys assigned to me alphabetically.

I pleaded my case against Chump and his cohorts and why I should not be expelled. I reasoned that one whole cat to the face made up for all the little bits of dead animals I had endured for the past three weeks. In the end I got a month of the dreaded ISS (In School Suspension) and had to see my whacked out guidance counselor once a day.

After my penance was served, there was a different vibe when I walked down the corridors of my school. People were looking at me, not with disgust or disdain but curiosity. They wanted to know what the hell possessed me to hit a guy with a cat. New people started sitting with me at lunch and in the library. The bullying came to a screeching halt. I still received some dirty looks from the jack offs that used to shove me against lockers or kick my feet when I was walking but they didn't dare come near me. I felt like Daniel San after Miyagi got the Cobra Kai to leave him alone until the tournament. High school wouldn't be the same.

Not only had I beat the bully, I fucking humiliated him. You can heal from cuts and bruises but you can't come back from an orange tabby to your grill.