You’re a freak of nature!
While I was running across a small patch of grass in front of the colossal red-brick building with stained glass windows, Ryan Baney, who lived at the top of North Street with his parents and older brother, thought he was being cute when lobbing the verbal grenade at me because of the funny way I walked due to my disability — a mild case of cerebral palsy.
“What did you call me?” I questioned with narrowed eyes, turning on a dime to confront the pint-sized antagonist standing directly behind me. “I’ve had just about enough of your nauseating insults, so you better shut your trap unless you want your ugly mug to end up on the back of a milk carton.”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” quipped the 6-year-old redhead, mocking me with disdain in his voice.
“You should be, because I’m tired of turning the other cheek,” this normally calm eighth grader proclaimed with righteous indignation as he knocked the little runt on his back before pouncing on him like a ravenous bobcat eager to tear into its prey’s flesh.
At the conclusion of our weekly Royal Rangers meeting, Senior Commander William “Bill” Arkwright made a quick announcement about our Sectional Pinewood Derby at Meadville Assembly of God, scheduled for the following month.
“This will be a fun activity for every bunkhouse in our outpost,” stated Bill Arkwright, flashing his pearly whites at the enthusiastic cheer from his young charges. “Since the exciting event will be in Crawford County this year, we’ll be taking the church bus; but I need all the participants to start working on their miniature racing cars, so they’ll be ready for competition.”
Once we were dismissed, several young fellows snatched up one of the fliers about the impending outing from the folding table next to the entry door to the church basement.
Shortly after climbing halfway up the wraparound staircase in the southwest corner of Ellwood City Assembly of God, my talkative friends — mostly Pioneers and Trailblazers — and I bolted out the side door to play a quick game of “Dodging the Demons” before our parents filtered out of the sanctuary to collect their offspring following the midweek church service.
When a few of the Straight Arrows and Buckaroos practically begged us to let them participate in our extracurricular activity, we reluctantly gave them permission to join in on the military-style skirmish.
“This game is every man for himself,” noted James “Jimmy” Allen while explaining the rules of engagement to the wide-eyed youngsters. “Every time a vehicle passes in front of the church on North Street, you have to make like a ghost and disappear into a hiding place because the enemy is Soviet Union tankers with big machine guns.”
“There is to be absolutely no cheating,” interjected Donald Streckeisen, giving strict instructions for anyone caught up in the thick of the fray. “If you’re discovered out in the open when one of those tankers roll by, you have to dramatically fall to the ground and play dead until only one of us is left standing.”
“And that individual will be declared the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces,” added Jason Streckeisen, lifting both arms into the air to flex his scrawny biceps to mimic the play on words.
“Do you think you boys can handle this?” I queried, placing hands on hips to look the youngest Royal Rangers in the eye.
Let’s kick some commie butt!
As soon as our detachment saw the first car come to a complete stop at the intersection of North Street and Orchard Avenue, everyone scattered like cats caught in a rainstorm, dodging behind one of several bushes or the lighted church sign in the center of the yard.
However, some of our comrades fell when the next horseless carriage seemingly came out of nowhere and zipped past the giant edifice on the corner of the block, spraying imaginary bullets in every direction.
With make-believe dead bodies lying in our path, the adrenaline-charged game grew more and more difficult to navigate as the enemy picked us off one by one.
And then it happened.
Just as I was traipsing through the patch of grass to duck behind the corner bush next to the main entrance of the red-brick building, the youngest Baney boy pulled the pin on that five-word derogatory explosive and hurled it directly at me.
For a split second, everything became a blur when this would-be wrestler dove from the “supposed” top rope of a wrestling ring and straddled the snot-nosed tormentor as if they were opponents in a televised cage match for the World Wrestling Federation on a Saturday night.
Get off me!
The fast-paced military exercise was preempted by an impromptu wrestling match as the other boys gathered around to watch the lopsided contest unfold before their very eyes; whereupon I body slammed Brent Baney with one hand when he attempted to help his little brother.
“Isn’t anyone going to do anything?” asked Saul Pellicano with outstretched hands, pointing out the unfair advantage. “Since Mark’s twice as big as Ryan, we’ve got to stop this fight before someone gets seriously hurt.”
“We need to let this play out,” reasoned Aaron Pellicano, holding back his younger brother to keep him from intervening in the slugfest. “Ryan has been saying mean and hateful things to Mark for months, so it’s time that little brat gets a taste of his own medicine.”
What’s good for the goose is good for the gander!
After lightly slapping the smart-mouthed hooligan on the cheeks several times, I pinned his little hands above his head before spewing fourth my pent-up frustration at him like a dormant volcano shooting hot molten lava down the mountainside.
“I’ve had just about enough of your crap for one lifetime,” I warned, seething with anger while informing the little punk of one possible future. “If you ever make fun of me again, I’m going to give you a sausage and lemonade swirly in the church restroom, and nothing or no one will be able to stop me.”
Once I freed the bite-sized bully from my firm grasp, he punched his sibling in the gut, babbling something about not being any help before running off sobbing like a little crybaby to tell their father; after which the other boys congratulated me on finally ending his reign of terror.