Writers Block and Pure Evil

I have writers block. Actually, block is kind of an understatement; it’s more like a brick wall.

So in an attempt to get my creative juices flowing, I looked at some sites with writing prompts.

For today we have "Was there no one else to play with? Write about the meanest or strangest kid you ever met."

This is almost too easy.

I grew up two doors down from Ericka. We were best friends from the age of two on. We were inseparable. She was a year older than I. The first day of class when I was starting third grade, there was a new girl walking with Ericka and I to school. Her name was Stacey, and she was Ericka’s cousin. She and Ericka were in the same grade.

Stacey had decided that there was no way that a third grader was going to walk with them to school. “LEAVE US ALONE,” she yelled at me. I didn’t understand why this girl who I didn’t even know didn’t like me. I was even more confused and heartbroken when Ericka decided to start picking on me as well. “Four Eyes” and a few other juvenile taunts were thrown my way a few times. I started walking faster; they were a few steps behind me whispering.

Have you ever gotten that sick feeling in your stomach when you KNOW something bad is about to happen? This was the first time I ever had that feeling.

We had just passed a neighborhood bar. Stacey picked up something that I would later see was a broken pool stick and hit me across the back and head with it. I hadn’t seen it coming, but I knew something was going to happen. Her blow had knocked me to the ground.

My glasses had flown off my face. My back and head hurt but most of all, my pride was shot and heart was broken. My best friend had deserted me, and her evil cousin had just beat me over the head with a pool stick. I was angry at myself for being too scared to do anything but sit on the ground and cry. They were laughing at me still. I waited for them to walk several houses further before I got up and continued to walk to school.

The girl was pure fucking evil.

It took a few days for me to tell my mom about what happened, and when I finally did, she was absolutely livid. Maybe that’s where I get the “Scary Mommy Syndrome” that takes over whenever someone is cruel to my children. She called Ericka’s mom, who was similarly enraged and called Stacey’s mom. Both were made to apologize to me. It didn’t mean much at that point because whatever friendship Ericka and I had was over with.

Stacey only went to our school for one year, thank God. It would be another few years for me to get my revenge, if you can call it that.

The beginning of my freshman year. I was rounding a corner to go to lunch and I literally RAN OVER Stacey. Stacey, a sophomore, could not have been taller than 5’1”. Thanks to good genes, I was blessed with obnoxious height. I was 6’1” as a freshman. It took me a minute to realize who she was, and it took her even longer for the same. Her books and papers were everywhere. I helped her pick them up. She looked a little distressed. She apologized repeatedly for running into me. I believe she was a little scared. And I can type that with a big old smile on my face, even 16 years later.