It was the early 90s and I was an 8-year-old living in Florida in a neighborhood absolutly filled with kids. Things were different back then. No video games, no "play dates", no overprotective parents, no helmets, no safety warnings, nothing. We would go out and set off fireworks, play with anything considered dangerous, do everything stupid you can think of, and generally raise hell. It's amazing I'm still alive today with all the stuff we did, although there was one close encounter...
Meet Christy. Christy was a 16-year-old retard fully grown as far as adults go. Christy lived in the neighborhood and rode around on one of those "adult tricycles" if you will. What looked almost like a bike, but with 3 wheels. Christy's mother was a super bitch who often yelled at us kids about god knows what. In the evening she could often be heard calling for Christy at the top of her voice out the front door. My parents never locked the house when they were gone and it wasn't uncommon to find Christy wandering inside upon returning home. Christy also had a brother named Paul who was 12 at the time.
A quick story about Paul:
While building a fort in the woods one day with some friends, Paul decided it would be a fantastic idea to swing a large piece of bamboo around for no particular reason. For those of you unaware, dried bamboo can get very hard. So hard it might as well be a baseball bat. This particular bat managed to connect with my face for a home run. I was a tough kid for the most part. I drank nothing but milk, and would spend the days riding my bike, exploring the woods, and trying to blow stuff up with fireworks. I wasn't one to crie and I certainly wasn't some pussy. However, when this stick struck me with enough force to break my front tooth in pieces, it hurt a lot. 13 years and 2 fillings later you can't even tell my tooth is chipped thanks to modern dentistry. I guess that's the most anyone could ask for, minus the dentist bills.
Back to the story:
As we all know, retards are put on this earth for our entertainment. To my friends and I Christy was no exception. I remember one time we locked the front door to keep cristy out, when she stuck her hand through the mail slot we proceeded to cover it with toothpaste, hairspray, or whatever else we could find. The great thing about this was a normal person would learn not to stick their hand in the slot again, when dealing with the mentally deficiant you can relive the experience over and over for a solid 10 minutes.
This isn't Christy, but damned if it isn't a good visual reference.
One day some of us kids were running races in the street, which is probably how I managed to stay skinny living off of slurpies and slim jims at the time. Unannounced, Christy decided she would join one of our long distance races that went the length of a block and back. As I jogged along somewhere among the middle of the kids, a mass of steel and vegetative brains silently crept up behind me. Without knowing what had happened, I had gone down face first onto the pavement. As that tricycle sailed over my tiny 8-year-old body, I knew right there and then things were different. Christy had not only won the race she wasn't a part of, but won a victory for retards everywhere. Striking a blow to those with fully developed brains was the kind of things dreams were made of. And so as Christy continuted to pedal into the sunset, I made my way home crying and bleeding profusely. You see my knees weren't just cut a little, my knees were GONE. No skin remained where my knees once were.
The day I was beat by a retard was not just a blow to me personally, but a blow to all of mankind. I had been punished for the taunters of retards all around the world. It took a very long time for my knees to heal, and to this day I have problems with them getiting sore easily. Whether it's related or just genetic I'll probably never know.
One thing I do know however, if I ever find that fucking retard and her family again I will most likely kill them.