Hmmm... same guy was involved with both directions of cruelty here.
I was small for my age in grade school, started almost a full year earlier than I should have *then* skipped first grade, so I was the class punching bag.
This one guy was the leader of the punching - not the biggest guy in the group, but the loudest and the born leader... everyone did what he said, or directed, and he hated my guts. Five years I put up with his shit - it was so bad that I would literally hide in the bushes during recess so they couldn't find me. Sad, but true - I was one scared little kid, until we moved away when I was 11.
When I was 12, I shot up 10 inches. When I was 18, I gained about 40lbs of muscle mass.
I think I was 20, and visiting back home, in line at the bank. I'm standing there, when I hear *his voice* behind me. "Smith? Is that you?"
The hairs went up on the back of my neck. My stomach clenched tight. Instant, utter, animal fear.
I turned around, slowly, eyes straight ahead... and then I had to drop them a few inches.
He'd topped out at 5'7" at most, was about 30lbs overweight, wearing a mechanics outfit with his name on the patch, and covered with grime. His teeth were bad, his hair was greasy, and his skin atrocious.
"How the hell are ya, man?" he says, beaming from ear to ear like we're long lost friends.
I looked him up and down, once, and simply said "Obviously better than you," and walked off.
The look of utter shock and destruction on his face *almost* made me feel guilty.
But not quite.
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