Punching The Lights Out Of A Bully

     

     When I was in third year high school,  a newcomer in our school became our classmate and befriended our group ( I remembered this because I happened to have a fellow UV express passenger yesterday who resembled this newcomer—stocky, full mustache and an aura of arrogance.

     In no time, we realized that mustached newcomer was a bully and the one that caught his unsavory attention was this classmate of us who came from the Visayas and had an accent which was funny to Mustached Guy. He enjoyed insulting and making fun of Visayan Guy (who according to Mustached Guy looked like a stevedore) until the Visayan Guy had enough and challenged him to a fistfight—which the Mustached Guy, smelling a mismatch, gleefully accepted. Why not, he was five foot six and stout and his challenger,though stocky, too,  stood only at five feet two inches.

     So we went to a vacant lot not far from school to hold the grudge match.

     And the moment Visayan Guy took a legitimate boxing stance in the beginning of their mano y mano, I knew that Mustached Guy was in trouble. I had my share of a few fisticuffs during those times so I sort of learned (from always being beaten up. Lol) how to spot someone who really knew how to punch.

     The fight began and immediately, a straight punch hit its mark.

     A left hook was also spot on, and so was a right hook, and an uppercut and another straight.

     In no time, Mustached Guy’s face was already bloodied and messed up, his mustache in disarray. And he was yet to hit Visayan Guy with his bara-bara style.

     After the fight, Mustached Guy was absent for many days because of a broken nose and a swollen bruised face—and we would always guffaw with utter delight whenever we talked about him.

     And, yes, the bullying stopped.