Fight Or Flight

Chapter 2: The Arrest.

I stared at the scalpel Samson gripped in his hand, my anger chameleoned to fear. The blade protruding from the handle was only two inch long but razor sharp. He could hurt me bad, and I didn't stand much of a chance defending myself.

Samson's arms were as big around as my thighs. Only one thing I could do was..... .

Run! .

I tried to, but Samson was too swift and
grabbed the back of my shirt collar.

I yelled,
"Tm sorry, Sam, let me go!"

That finally got the teacher's attention. "Hey, stop that! Both of you"

The few kids in the class who bothered to look our way wore blank, vacant
expressions, their eyes half closed as if our little drama bored them.

"He's going to cut me with the scalpel," I
cried to the teacher.

Samson chuckled. "You scream like a virgin boy."Now pressing and pulling my neck really hard intermittently.

I yelped. Gasping for breathe at the same time.

"You feel light as a paper. Despite your love for food, all these years you never weigh more than half a kilo. You wasteful Foody!" He said.

He glanced around the classroom. "We are calling him 'food' henceforth. Do we agree?"

Most of my classmates nodded numbly. Nobody dared stand up to him. The teacher stepped toward us and addressed Samson.

"Let him go."

Samson yanked me around, putting me
between himself and the teacher. "Mind your own business, Sir. This here is between me and Foody."

The teacher stopped and gawked at the
scalpel Samson held. "Put down the scalpel. Think about what you're doing."

"I know what I'm doing. Mister."

"He threatened to cut me up,"I interrupted, hating the thin, reedy sound of my squealing, little voice.

Samson yanked me backward in the direction of our lab table. "That's a lie. I never said anything like that. What I told you was that I was going to spill your Spaghetti, not cut you up."

As terrorized as I felt, that distinction made little or no difference to me. Looking at the teacher, I blurted, "Do something Sir, he meant it."

But I doubt it. The man was old, scared, and had a reputation for being cowardly. He's the kind to stick his head into the hall and yell for school security.

The teacher looked back at the other students randomly.

As if telegraphing his intentions.
"No need to bring in outsiders," Samson said in a voice low and cold.
"Like I already told you. This is between me and Foody"

In his eyes, I could see that Mr. Teacher wished he was any place other than here. He took a step back and said in an unconvincing tone, "Put down the scalpel Sam, and Do it now!."

"No! I can't do that, Mister. Not until I settle my scores with this foody"

"There are over twenty witnesses in this
classroom Sam."

Samson laughed and waved an arm. "Them?... Them?... Hahaha! Nobody here is going to say nothing against me. No one dares!'"

As he made eye contact with the other kids in class, they all looked away. Turning his attention to the teacher, he said, "Besides, you can't lay a finger on me, you know better. And I don't have to do a damn thing you tell me to. You're not my father, and even if you were, sure enough, I don't listen to him, either!."