Mighty, The Forty Maden

Mighty, the daily prompt.

Mighty would beat me up when I was a child. I had long hair, and a funny accent which I later found out was a lisp.

Mighty would wait for me in the showers, with a bucket full of scalding water, and a bucket full of piss. He would wait until I reached for the towel to throw the scalding water, then he’d throw the piss. You see, the scent sticks with you longer if your pores are open. I always wondered how he knew that.

Mighty would call me Barbie, and for two years, he made me tiny. I swear I stopped growing for that period. Everything I did, I felt judged, I was going to get laughed at, or beaten up for it.

If I missed a ball: Barbie! Go play with the girls!

If I outrun someone, I’d get kicked in the shins, or tripped over.

If I drank from the fountain, he’d choke me under the tap until I said: “Barbie loves to swallow”.

Then one day, I stood up in roll call, made myself present: “Yes sir, present” and went to sit back down, when my chair had vanished. I fell onto the ground, hitting my tailbone so hard I thought I was going to vomit.

The entire room exploded with laughter, with fingers pointing at me. Mighty laughed the loudest as he swung my chair in my face.

Tears welled up, from the pain, the rage, and the embarrassment. I turned around and leaped over a desk; planted my knees on his chest as I grabbed his head with both of my hands. He stumbled backward, pushing the other desks out of the way, in a pathetic domino effect. We eventually made it to the floor. His head bounced off the marble floor; I felt it in my jaw. I was biting his cheek as hard as I could, and promised to myself they’d have to kill me to get me off.

I tasted iron, and bit harder.

Then there was release. The cheek was mine. I lifted my head full of glory, Not sure where the cheek ended up; I believe it hung off his face. I was airborne, celebrating. Taken off the ring like a World Champion Boxer, straight to 2 weeks detention.

Later I was told, 7 kids were pulling me off Mighty. I didn’t feel them at all.

I still had long hair, and still looked like a girl, but my nickname now was  Pitbull Mother Fucker.

Yes, that was my moto, the only kid in school who had a three-word nickname.





4 thoughts on “Mighty, The Forty Maden

  1. Pingback: Author Interview – Jenna Greene – “Heroine”, “Imagine” and “Reality” (Young Adult Fantasy) | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

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