I NEVER Ran From A Fight…except for these two times

I was never one to back down from a challenge growing up…Especially one to my pride. When I was little, I got into a lot of fights. Some were because of stuff that came out of my mouth since I’ve been a shit talker since birth. Some were because I looked different than most of the folks I lived in the neighborhood with or went to school with. Some were because of the knuckleheads I used to hang out with, like my friend Pay Pay. Others were just me being in the wrong place at the WRONG gotdamned time.

Usually, I’d just man up and fight since I am a man of immense pride. That said, I usually won most of my fights in convincing fashion. I would whip ass like Brad Pitt in Fight Club. I’d go Tyler Durden on that ass. There were two instances, however, where I was pretty much forced to back down. Both times, my cousin Andre was involved.

The first came during the spring of my 8th grade year. I was at a track meet at a rival high school checking out girls from outside the fence, when this fine ass 18 year old lady walks over to the fence and starts calling me cute. So I’m trying my best to put my 8th grade mack down, when this fat guy comes over to her with like 5 other guys. One of which was about 6’2″ and 220 pounds with a shirt on that read “Deez Nuts.” The fat guy is yelling out all this shit like “You talking to my sister? What the fuck are you doing trying to fuck my sister! That’s fucked up!”

So Andre says “Don’t worry man. If anything happens, I got your back.” So I look back at the angry mob surrounding the fine girl, then I look back at Andre, and noticed he had already slid back about five feet from where he was standing earlier in that split second that I turned my head. That’s when I knew that dude did NOT have my back. I just gave in and said “No, I wasn’t looking at your sister.” and lowered my head in shame.

When I finally entered the track meet, I caught up to about 15 of my friends from school and we went around the place looking to fuck those guys up…but had no luck in finding them. So I had to take an L on that one. Too bad, cause with 16 of us, we would have beat the brakes off Deez Nuts, Fat Boy, and all their friends.

The second story is even worse than the first…but only because I ran from a gay dude this time.

Go ahead and laugh…but you wouldn’t be laughing if you saw this guy. This wasn’t any ordinary gay dude. He was this big, muscle-bound, diesel bohemoth of a gay dude. Like Apollo Creed from the Rocky movies, only bigger, and 100 times more flamboyant.

But back to the story…It was the summer after 8th grade, and Andre and I went into a McDonalds to get some food. In front of us in line was this huge bodybuilder guy who looked to have about 0% bodyfat. His eyebrows even looked like they had muscles. Well, Mr. Swole Doctor in front of us had on these little ass cutoff jean shorts with fringes at the upper thighs, a cutoff t shirt with fringes on the sleeves, and some of those little ass socks with the ball on the ends of them. So naturally, Andre and I sterted whispering making fun of him and laughing. I mean, it was just so funny seeing someone so macho, and yet so punk assed at the same time. So were chuckling and trying to be discreet, when all of the sudden Mr. Swole Doctor turns around and yells out in this thunderous Michael Clarke Duncan/Voice of God baritone “ALRIGHT WHAT THE FUCK ARE Y’ALL LAUGHING AT?!?!?!”

I look at Andre. He looks at me. Without saying a word, we both hauled ass out of that McDonalds in different directions. We ended up meeting up in the parking lot a little later, laughing about that shit. I don’t care what anybody says. That guy was strong enough to crush my skull like a grape. I don’t think I could have hurt him had I swung on him. I could probably throw a brick at that guy, and he’s just walk it off for a second then commence to beating me within an inch of my life. So rather than get my ass whipped by some guy in girly shorts with fringes, I ran for my fucking life. Besides, I didn;t want him to take a liking to me and try to make me his bitch after the fight. That would just add insult to injury.

So there you have it. I ran, and lived to talk shit another day. Now you can best believe I’ll handle mine if it comes down to a situation that only calls for self defense…But my thing is, sometimes you have to know when to hold ‘em, and know when to fold ‘em.