Pest control

In 8^th grade I had a pest problem. I’m not talking about ants or fruit flies in the pantry or something – I’m talking about a classmate who made it his goal to annoy and offend me at every opportunity.

This pest, we’ll call him "Lefty" (for reasons that will soon become apparent and because I honestly can’t remember his name anymore), shared one class with me, his locker was near mine, and we rode the same school bus. So we crossed paths on a nearly daily basis. And for whatever reason he took it up on himself to do everything possible to get under my skin. 

He must have sensed my naturally good nature and isolation stemming from my still relatively new environment. He was pipsqueak 7^th grader - short with glasses - which only further infuriated me. Not only would swatting him break my streak of consecutive non-bullying days, but the fact he was younger, smaller, and somehow looked dorkier than me added an extra dilemma of pre-guilt (which is the guilt I know I would feel if I actually followed through with something. I always weigh the level of pre-guilt before I take any action).

Lefty would annoy me in whatever way possible. Bothering me on the bus while sleeping/reading/listening to music, “accidentally” closing my locker after I open it, and just plain…I don’t know… just refusing to give me a moments peace. I need my moments of peace. It is how I avoid snapping and waking up to find nothing left standing within a five mile radius.

Lefty wouldn’t give me peace. And he paid the price.

This pestering went on for about three months. Shortly before winter break, I finally broke and took my revenge.

It was PE class. We were having some free time and I was shooting basketball in the gym. Lefty walked up and struck up a conversation. By which I mean he started telling “Yo Momma” jokes. Remember those?

Now, if it hasn’t already been made abundantly clear in this blog, I love my family. I take family very seriously. And I was never a fan of “Yo Momma” jokes to begin with. So this pipsqueak comes up to me and starts up with these tacky jokes at the expense of my mother…well, I had had enough.

Before I go on, I should explain something: I have the feet of a full grown elephant. Hobbit feet have nothing on me. I am a living, breathing, (slightly) less hairy Bigfoot.

Lefty had finally pushed me too far, and I brought the full weight of my left foot down upon his right foot. With the strength of jackhammer driving into concrete, I stomped down and gave him the nickname he now bears.

I remember being surrounded by students and teachers and Lefty carried to the office – one leg dangling limply. His cries of pain still haunt me sometimes. I don’t remember much after that, but the next I thing I knew I too was in the office. They shackled my legs and put armed guards around me in case my feet went out of control and endangered anyone else.

I sat down with the nurse and vice principal and told my story. After I finished, the vice principal looked me in the eye and said, “OK. We’ve heard this before. Lefty is a perpetual troublemaker, I don’t blame you.” 

I was given a stern warning not to do it again and allowed to resume my school day.

That night I called my father to describe my ordeal. His response: “You stomped on him? What kind of reaction is that, Stomper!?!?”

He still calls me that to this day. The legend of Stomper lives on.

My somewhat peculiar reaction did work, however. Lefty’s attitude toward me completely changed. He was very apologetic about his teasing. I can’t help but think the reason for his sudden turnaround had something to do with the fact that his right foot now looked like that of a cartoon character after it has been run over by a steam roller. We even became friends of sorts since we continued riding the same school bus through all of middle school and half of high school (Yeah, I still rode the bus in high school. What of it? That parking lot was a mess! And years of city living had taught me the value of free public transportation).

So the morals of this story are: inflicting physical pain always gets you your way and can even turn enemies into friends, Bigfoot is real and he is me, and beware da feet (Get it? Da feet – defeat…it’s like a pun…)