Bully?...Better watch your back

We have all, at some point in our life, known someone who will take advantange of those who are seemingly weaker than they are. Some do this to make their lives seem less miserable, others to make a name for themselves and some simply because they are to stupid to interact socially without resorting to archaic means.

The "bully" in this story is a kid named Tom Jacobs. He and i grew up together in a small town in Georgia. Becuase our last names were so close, alphabetically, I not only had the pleasure of living in the same neighborhood as Tom, but also being placed in the same homeroom from grade school right up through high school. Why Tom was the way he was, I can't really say. It seemed like he was always the first to throw a punch when the odds were in his favor and the first to turn tail and run when they were'nt.

Toms delinquincy went unchecked and unpunished for several years. By the time we got to high school he had cemented his reputation as a tough guy, though having known him from an early age I knew this was not the case. The truth was he only picked the fights he knew he could win. There were several kids he kept in his rotation but none he loved to brutalize more than Demus Mathews.

Today, Demus would be reffered to as "special". Back then the less kind term of retarded was the only tag we had to apply to him. He walked pigeon toed and therefore moved quite slowly. This obviously made him a prime target for Toms aggression. Demus carried himself with a considerable hunch, eyes to the ground and lips sealed. I can't recall having ever heard Demus mutter even a single word. I'm not sure where he was from, only that he had moved to our town in the tenth grade.

Toms assualts on Demus where usually in the form of a swift kick in the knees from behind as he was running past. Though he did incorporate other forms of harrasment, always from a distance. Despite Demus' obvious physical afflictions he was not small in stature and we all knew if he could get his thick hands on Tom just once, the days of bullying would come to an abrupt end.

Phys. ed. was not a kind place for Demus. Tom could torture him to no end and with little fear of repercussion as this time was "supervised" by the coach of the baseball team. For all his faults Tom was an excellent short stop which gave him a free pass through much of his high school carrer. One day in particular Tom was standing behind the bleachers throwing rocks at Demus who was, as ussual, sitting there just staring at the ground. When one rock hit Demus squarely in the back of the head causeing blood flow down his neck. Demus quickly rose to his feet and turned toward Tommy with what may have been the most aggresive look I had ever seen him produce. I thought to myself "allright Tommy boy, this is it, time to run". But to no avail. Demus affixed his gaze back to the ground and walked away.

Our senior year we had been given given class rings. To most of us this was a symbol of accomplishment. To Tom it was a weapon. He would turn the ring around backwards on his finger and slap his victims in the back of the head. One would think that as a senior in high school these childish ways would be long gone but Tom had never been tought a lesson. This was about to change.

I cannot, to this day, remember what Tom and I were talking about as we were standing in the restroom that day. I assume it went as most conversations went with him. He expounding upon his greatness and me wishing he would just shut up. I remember vividly Demus walking in, raising his head, seeing the back of Toms heads, and the look of joy on his face when he reallized he had approached his tormentor undetected and within striking range. He raised one finger to his thinnly pressed grinning lips asking to me to not give up his element of surprise. I had no intention of doing so. I continued to look Tom in the eye listening to his endless rambling with feighned interest. But when Demus curled his sausage fingers into a massive fist, drew it back even with his jaw and for the first time stood fully erect, my shock at his massive size was beyond containment.

Tom and Demus must have picked up on this simultainously. Tom stopped talking and starred at me with a puzzled look. Demus, not wanting to miss this opportunity, quickly grabbed Toms shoulder with his other hand. For a split second Toms look of puzzlement turned to frozen terror. He knew whos hand was on him and the price he was about to pay. But a split second was not enough time to react. In one motion Demus pulled Tom towards him and released his clinched fist. There was a dull thud followed by Toms eyes rolling over white. As he collapsed at my feet I immediatly began to think of reasons for Demus not to do the same to me."good job, he deserved that...wer'e friends rights...". It became apparent Demus had no intentions of harming me as his shoulders again slumpt, his face went blank and he turned and walked away.

Tom never said a word about that day. He knew what had happened. He knew he deserved it. I wont go as far as to say he changed his ways but I will say he never even looked at Demus again and his dispossition towards violence was seemingly deminshed