"Little Nut-Kicker"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A silly little story about the time of my life when I was a mischievous little girl who kicked boys in the nuts in order to teach them a lesson.

Submitted: November 09, 2013

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Submitted: November 09, 2013

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“Little Nut-Kicker”

Writer’s note: The names have been changed in order to protect the identities of those whose “nuts” were involved.

Once upon a time in a faraway land, there was a brave female warrior. Only it was not so long ago and it was not in a faraway land. It was only about ten years ago and it was just at the Philippines, a mere three-hour flight away from Guam. I also was not a brave female warrior. I was just a mischievous little girl who wanted to teach little kids a lesson. This is a story about the time of my life when I was notoriously known as a “Little Nut-Kicker”.

The story begins in the start of the second grade, where a young seven-year-old girl, me, prepared herself for the start of the new school year. The new school year loomed new teachers, new things to learn, and of course, new classmates.I attended Governor Andres Pascual College (GAPC), an institution attended by elementary, high school, and college students. It was a bright sunny day, I remembered, as I got off the pedicab and walked my way to my new classroom. I attended this school last year, so of course I knew where to go. I walked, brimming with confidence, ready to conquer the world or just the second grade at least. I walked in and picked a desk. I sat down, claiming that this seat was mine. I looked out the window and saw the faces of the “newbies” who were now going to attend my school. I remember the first impressions that I had of my new classmates. Someone was really smelly, someone’s clothes were really baggy, and the seventy-five percent of them were really short. I did not like them in my school because I have been here since Kindergarten and they were invading my turf. Little girl me was not impressed, and I just wanted them to leave the minute they walked in the door. I knew that this would be the start of a long, dreadful year.

It took months before I was finally able to tolerate their presence. Those who were fortunate enough, became my friends, and the rest, I just grew to dislike. There was one boy in particular whom I despised the most. His name was Dylan. Dylan was a nightmare. Everything Dylan did was horrifying to me. He picked his nose, he ran around until he was all sweaty, and he would allow the stench of his sweat to permeate my nose every afternoon. The boy was made of cooties, absolutely disgusting. As a kid, I had a strong sense of cleanliness, personal space, and boundaries. Dylan was always dirty and his smell always invaded my personal space. It was unacceptable. One day in class, I was just paying attention to the teacher, minding my own business, when suddenly, Dylan grabbed my eraser. He just took it with his dirty hands, used it, and placed it back as if I was just supposed to pretend that nothing ever happened. I was taken aback. The thing that I hated the most when I was a kid was people touching my things without asking. It was unfathomable for me as a kid. My mother taught me that you do not touch other kids’ belongings without asking for permission and that was my golden rule. I had never touched any of Dylan’s belongings so it made absolutely no sense for him to do this to me. I glared at Dylan throughout the rest of the class hoping that the flaming anger that was brimming inside me would make its way through and pierce its way right into his soul. Wicked thoughts overwhelmed my head as I thought of ways to punish Dylan. First, he came into my school, and now he touches my things? He has crossed the line. After class ended, I confronted Dylan right away. He was with his friend, Michael, another boy I could not stand, and asked him: “Why did you touch my eraser?” He replied: “Because I needed it.” “You could have asked.” I sneered at him. Then, all I remember from that moment on was that Michael said something that infuriated me. What Michael said released the devil inside of me that I did not know existed.

Now, this is where I pull an Edgar Allan Poe and say that I am going to exact revenge on an enemy over something that enemy said, but not actually tell you what that enemy said. Frankly, that is because I do not remember what it was that Michael said. All I remember was that it made me incredibly mad. So after Michael insulted me, he left the classroom with Dylan and went to the school’s play area. On an unrelated note, it was rumored that the play area was built on a cemetery, so that should give a sense of how the following events would pan out. I followed Dylan and Michael and devised a devious plan. I knew that I wanted Michael to feel excruciating pain so I decided that I would fight him. I knew that I was a girl so that meant that I could hit them as much as I wanted and they would not hit back. The general rule was that guys can not hit girls so I was in the clear. I found Dylan and Michael playing hacky sack. I marched towards them and interrupted their game. I demanded an apology from Michael. He decided to ignore my warning and left me no option but to attack. So I launched a kick that just so happens to hit Michael in the “nuts”. He let out a loud groan, the same sound a deer makes after it has been shot. He was writhing in pain on the floor, crying. I stood over him, victorious. Dylan helped Michael up and they both ran away in fear. I remained there, feeling triumphant. Dylan and Michael, or anyone for that matter, never bothered me again.

Later that day, I got called by the teacher and she asked me about what happened at lunch. Apparently, Dylan and Michael “tattled” on me. She asked me why I did it and I simply told her that they bothered me so I made them feel pain. She was disappointed. At the time, I thought that she was just concerned about the way I solved the problem, but it turns out that she was more concerned about the particular part of the body where I kicked Michael. In my defense, I was only seven years old and was absolutely clueless of the human anatomy. I did not know that that certain part of the body had a lot to do with reproduction. I did not learn about the “birds and bees” until years after that. After my teacher told me everything I did wrong, she released me and told me never to get in a fight again. I got into a fight two months after that talk over something that I can not remember. Needless to say, I did win “Best in Conduct” that year.

I guess the moral in this story is to respect people’s personal space so that you would not get kicked in the “nuts”. It could also be that there are always going to be less damaging ways of resolving an issue with another individual. Overall, what I learned from recalling this memory is that I was a really naughty girl. This trip down memory lane made me aware of my progression and how I have grown as a person. I am really thankful that I was able to learn from this experience and that I grew out of this “little nut-kicker” phase. Imagine how much trouble I would be in if I solved all of my problems by kicking the other person in the crotch. Oh, what a life that would have been. 


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