A Comedy of AR's

by: Sammderr | Story In Progress | Last updated Feb 23, 2024


Chapter 21
Dealing With Bullies


Chapter Description: Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home


During the mornings this week, my age has been progressing from 2 ½ to 4 ½ and now I am 6 ½.  I feel more like a person now, and less like a baby.  I hated being a baby.  I’m just still a bit on the short side.  But I am proud that I seem to have mastered the fine art of going potty in the middle of night whenever the urge hit me.  I thanked bunny rabbit for helping me get up when I needed to.  And climbing out of the crib had become second nature.

 

I knocked on Sammantha’s bedroom door and yelled out, “Good morning sunshine!”

 

She was very happy to answer her door this time and immediately put the question to me.  “Did you stay dry?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I’ll assume that’s a yes.  Jesus, you got big!”

 

I grinned.  “I’m almost seven now, Mommy.”

 

“Wow, okay well why don’t we go out to Bob Evans for breakfast?  I don’t feel like cooking.”

 

“Great, I think that eating with you is the best part of being your son, Mommy.”

 

 

 

 

 

We both ordered big breakfasts at Bob Evans.  There was so much on the menu … and soon we entered into some moments of typical breakfast conversation … beating the shit out of a four-year-old.

 

“Sweety, if you don’t feel like going through with this, that’s perfectly fine.  I know you’re not a big fan of fighting and if you just want to move on, I’ll be okay with it.  I don’t want you thinking that you have to do this just to please me.  I’ll support your decision either way.”

 

My mouth was full of syrup-dripping waffles and it took me a minute to wash it down with milk.

 

“Mommy, I’ve given this a lot of thought … and I really feel that punching the testicles of a baby boy is unforgivable and requires a proportional response.”

 

Sammantha raised an eyebrow.  “Proportional response?  Those are some pretty big words for a six-year-old.”

 

“Yes … You said last night that sometimes I find it convenient to mentally switch between an adult and a child.”

 

“I think that’s the main reason why you’re so good a role play.  Here, I want to show you something.”

 

Sammantha had brought a handbag, a rarity for her.  I thought she might be kidding when she said she would wear a wig to the daycare center.  She fastened the long blonde wig to her head and asked, “Well, what do you think of my new look?”

 

I was really more interested in my food.  The scrambled eggs were delicious.  But I studied her odd features for a minute and eventually answered.

 

“Mommy, I can honestly say … that from the neck down, you look terrific.”

 

Sammantha looked at me with a twisted head.  “Well, I thank you, both for your honesty, and your left handed compliment.”

 

 

 

 

 

By 11a.m., we were ready to begin our caper.  Sammantha parked several blocks away from the daycare in case of security cameras.  We walked to the daycare, checked in under false names, and proceeded to Mrs. Fluker’s large room.

 

Sammantha peeked through the window and whispered, “He’s there,” referring to Dorcus.

 

Then she opened the door and called out, “Mrs. Fluker!  Mrs. Fluker!  Can you please come outside the door so I can ask you a question privately?”

 

Ironically, I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous.  Seeing Dorcus got my anger up again.  As Mrs. Fluker came to the door, I snuck into the room behind her back.

 

Sammantha began her forceful accusation.  “Mrs. Fluker, I’ve been considering enrolling my child into this daycare, but I’ve been hearing numerous complaints from other parents who say that the kids here don’t get enough outdoor exercise.  When they pick up their kids, the kids are still wound up with unspent energy.  Can you please explain what’s going on about that?”

 

As the teacher made great efforts to defend her program, I walked quickly over to Dorcus and tapped his shoulder.  He turned around and gave me a quizzical look as I waved my fingers at him, and spoke my pre-arranged line.”

 

“Hi Dorcus!  I’m Derrek!  Remember me?”

 

He stared up at me, blankly.  “Huh?”

 

I didn’t waste time.  I kicked him in the groin with authority.  He dropped to the floor and issued a lengthy moan, as he clutched his genitals.  I sprinted to the door, and behind the teacher’s back, and I gave Sammantha a thumbs-up.

 

She pulled out her cell phone and exclaimed, “Oh!  This is a call from my doctor.  I’ve got to take it.”

 

Then we both walked quickly out of the daycare and down to our car.  Once inside, Sammantha asked me for a rundown of the results.

 

“I kicked him in the balls, Mommy.  He had it coming.”

 

“What else did you do to him?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Really?  No punch to his face or stomach?  And you didn’t break his ankle?”

 

I shrugged.  It was too hard to remember all the ligaments.  And there was one more thing that bothered me, Mommy.  When I thought about a 28 year old man beating up a four-year-old boy, it didn’t sit well with me … A touché kick in the nuts would be enough of a revenge for today.”

 

Sammantha smiled at me.  “I’m really proud of your decision, sweety.  It shows that inside, you have a really good heart.  You have the power of empathy … much more than I do.

 

“I don’t understand, Mommy,”

 

“You will when we get home.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Sweety, we need to talk.”

 

I came back into the living room.  “I knew something was going to happen because of what you said about ‘empathy’.  Should I assume the position, Mommy?”

 

Sammantha sat down and pointed to her knees.  I liked facing her so closely, but it always felt weird having my legs spread apart.

 

“Sweety, this is going to be the most important conversation we’ve ever had as mom and son.”

 

“Am I in trouble again, Mommy?”

 

“No no no, sweety, you’re fine.  Today we’re going to talk about me.  A while back you asked me about Gort Canker and I felt bad about chasing you away.”

 

“Mommy, I’ll always be here to support you no matter what, even if your Gort Canker is serious.  I know that you were crying about it in your bed and I’m sorry for pushing it when you told me to stop.”

 

“Sweety, Gort Canker is not a disease.  It’s a person.”

 

“Wait, what?  What kind of person?”

 

“He was my bully in high school.”

 

“But I thought you were the bully.”

 

“Everyone has bullies … in every walk of life.  You could run into them at school or they could even be your boss at work.   I felt that because you chose a quite limited revenge against your bully, that you would be mature enough to handle this topic.”

 

“I was just astounded that anyone as strong as Sammantha could have a bully.  “So was this Gort Canker person stronger than you?”

 

“By a lot.  We were teammates on the boys wrestling squad.  In those days, the anti-female cultural attitude toward women who wanted to compete in boys sports was very strong, especially at my high school.  None of my male teammates would ever speak to me, even after I won a match.  They were mad because I defeated the 126 pound boy who represented the school last year.  So legally, the coach’s hands were tied.  He had to let me wrestle on the team.”

 

“Was that boy Gort Canker?”

 

“Oh, no.  Gort was in the 160 weight class and he was the strongest member of our team.  But the 126 boy was a friend of his, so he hated me with much passion.”

 

“How did he bully you?”

 

“By constant hazing.  Our wrestling room was next to the gym and was completely enclosed and nearly soundproof.  All the floors and walls of it were covered with padding.  We had practice every morning before first period, and at least once per practice, he would pair off against me and throw my body against the walls or the floor as hard as he could.  Then he would stand over me and say, ‘Give it up, Adams … We don’t need any pussycunts on this team.’  He did everything he possibly could do to try to get me to quit the team … but I refused to quit because I hated boys with every fiber of my body.”

 

“But didn’t the coach see what Gort was doing?”

 

“Of course, but the coach was in on it.  He didn’t want any girl on his team.  He thought that the other coaches would poke fun at him, because he couldn’t find a boy strong enough at our school to compete at 126.”

 

“Did other teachers know about the bullying?”

 

“Sure, all them, even the principal, the school board, and the superintendent.  They all just looked the other way.  They all felt that a girl shouldn’t be wrestling boys … It was too sexual.  And they thought the boys could injure a girl’s breasts.  And they weren’t exactly thrilled that during the meets, the teenage announcers in the gym would introduce me as Sammantha ‘Ball Crusher’ Adams.”

 

“Wow, Mommy!  That’s a great name!”

 

“And it was true, too.  I was not a nice person in high school.  My favorite move was the ‘crotch lift’ where you put your arm under your opponent’s crotch and try to lift them up and then slam them down to mat.  I would always try to bounce the boys on my arm before the takedown.  I came close to rupturing a lot of testicles.  And they were always too macho to wear a cup.  They wanted to show off their ‘package’ and it just gave me a good target.  As I told you before, a high school wrestling match is nothing more than a public mugging.”

 

“But what about Gort?”

 

“Well … As the wrestling season went on, the hazing got worse.  He memorized my class schedule, and several times a day, he would ambush me in the hallways and punch me in the uterus … and keep in mind, I wasn’t even supposed to have a uterus.”

 

“Because you were a boy trapped in a girl’s body.”

 

“Right … and nobody helped me.  The teachers saw this happen right in front of them.  None of them said a word or lifted a finger.”

 

“Mommy, can we just hurry up and get to the punch line.”

 

Sammantha flipped my body over her knee and into the ‘spanking’ position.  “Naughty, naughty, naughty boy!  That was the worst pun ever!”

 

I added a few ‘ouches’ but she was just patting me lightly … then back to my original sitting position.

 

“Derrek, your mom is not proud of some of the things she did as a young person.  I really had close to zero empathy … and my revenge against Gort Canker nearly destroyed my life.  That’s why thinking about it made me cry.”

 

I asked quietly, “Mommy, did you kill Gort?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

End Chapter 21

A Comedy of AR's

by: Sammderr | Story In Progress | Last updated Feb 23, 2024

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