I never was a good fighter. It's not that I was afraid---. Oh yes it was---I was afraid---plenty, Tonto. The trick was to somehow hide this yellow streak, which ran from my eyebrow to my pubic hair, from every living being on the planet.
Now, figure this out: for some reason, this crazy obsession worked its way in the reverse. That is, it brought trouble my way, causing frequent malfunctions of my bladder. Go figure, Sherlock!
Wake up, you'll---I'm going on with the story.
The scene :summer camp in New Hampshire-- a CO-ED camp-- and the gals were gorgeous. We were all in college so our ages were perfectly calibrated with the maximum performance capability of our respective sex organs. Stand back, you fool.
Each night, after we put the campers to bed, we would drive to a nearby motel which featured a cool lounge and Sinatra juke box. I love this country!!
In any conversation, the mention of the name WALLY would fetch the identical response: dread, fright, fear, horror, terror, impending doom, etc. etc. etc,,.. The reason for this was a human being in his mid-thirties, 6'6 feet tall whose body resembled the blended bodies of Superman, Batman and Mike Tyson, and whose face accurately reflected the destructive power the heavens had bestowed upon him. Wally was a killer. One story which had made the rounds had Wally sitting at the bar when a patron innocently asked if he could munch a few peanuts from the bowl resting at the killer's elbow. Wally did not answer with words. Instead, he established contact between his fist and the idiot--stranger's knuckles which were adorned in a cast for a substantial period of months.
In my group walked, seven guys, five ladies--and we began to leisurely drink. I adore this land!
Fifteen feet away from us, five burly men, saddling the breeze (look ma, I talk like a cowboy) and ordering a furious pace. They were all dressed alike: white t-shirts covering bulging yet menacing but rippling muscles, skin-tight jeans---can men sport musclebound assholes?--talking as if they were going to beat the shit out of who cares. Each one more curious than the other, except one who was more menacing then the others. The mother ship of bad mothers. He, unknown to most, was Wally.
As we imbibed, I noticed Wally kept staring at one of the ladies at our table, getting so intense that it could not be ignored. Our guys began to lose all semblance of manhood. It was awkward city. Something bad was brewin'!
And it was in that hell-about-to-explode cauldron, that I again announced to the world that I was the biggest putz of all.
I swigged on my drink, yelled for Shane to come back, stared Wally in the eye, and barked,"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT?"
Have you ever seen grown men squirm for cover? Drop from their chairs and try to get under the rug? Begin to cry out for "MUMMY?"
Not Wally, you haven't.
He rose to a standing position, looked at yours truly and icily pronounced,"WHATSAMATTER, KID, YA NERVOUS?"
I pissed in my pants.
"YA NERVOUS, KID?"
I shat myself.
Wally approached, his outreached fist enabling contact.
I'm not a praying man except for this time.
"SAVE THE TEETH, LORD, SAVE THE TEETH."
"ONE PUNCH TO CHANGE YOUR PRETTY FACE."
'THE TEETH, LORD, THE TEETH."
"YOU DON'T LIKE ME, I DON'T LIKE YOU"
The monster speaks, and the truth, yet.
"BUT THAT DON'T MEAN WE HAVE TO FIGHT ABOUT IT!!"
If I cover his fist with my mouth, will he smell the scent of surrender?
YES--HE DID! WE BECAME FRIENDS. HE BECAME MY PROTECTOR1
I KEPT MY TEETH AND VOWED IN THE FUTURE TO KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT.
NOBODY MESSED WITH ME FOR ALL THE SUMMERS TO COME.
OOPS', THERE'S WALLY! TICKETS FOR THE MOVIES. WE'LL BE LATE IF I DON'T HURRY.
BUT I AIN'T NERVOUS ANYMORE.