"Back off, Bert!" I shouted seconds before taking a right hook to the cheek. I'd just stumbled across the school fat man, Bert, harassing a scrawny, pathetic nerd. The kids face showed an expression of sheer horror as Bert waved a fist inches from his face. That fist twisted, and slammed into my left cheekbone, sending a jolt of pain pulsing through my head. Out of pure reflex, I reeled back and slung my fist forward, connecting my right knuckle with Bert's nose, sending the fatty sprawling across the hallway floor, leaving a trail of blood and saliva behind him. After checking myself for blood, I approached the scrawny kid.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, retrieving his personal belongings, which had been scattered across the floor.
"You should really learn to defend yourself in that kind of situation."
"Yeah? What should I do against Bert? He weighs two hundred more pounds than I do, and he's on the football team! I don't like my odds!"
The kid was on the verge of tears, his eyes shut tight, his fists clenched, and he was right. He didn't stand a chance against Bert. He probably couldn't lift much more than a textbook, and Bert was the second strongest lineman on the Orville High Football team, only falling behind myself, Clint. This kid, whose name a later discovered was Oliver, was light enough to be pushed over by a strong gust of wind. He never stood a chance.
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Short Stories and Other Creative Waste
De TodoAh the wonders of 2018. It's been a long time since anything was written here. If you want something fresh (and probably higher quality) look for my newer stuff. A metaphorical sewage dump
