November 16, 2006

bitter memories : encounter with brutus (part II)

*this is a continuation from the previous entry… *

I tried to pry that bastard’s lock open but he was too strong. I even attempted to gouge his eyes (like what they always do in the movies) but it didn’t work. I was growing weak by the microseconds, as I was sapped off my strength from the desperate struggling and oxygen deprivation. I struggled for about 15 seconds, and when I was at the verge of passing out, he finally released his grip and stood there coldly to watch me gasp for fresh air. I don’t know why he did that. Like, he could have bolted off or something… but he didn’t.

Well, whatever his reasons were, it mattered not to me – for I did not waste another second to pounce at him like ravenous beast and began to assault him. I then pinned him down on the ground and continued to work on his face – with some quick but clumsy punches driven by sheer exasperation. Surprisingly, he remained unusually dormant throughout the entire beating. He did not even try to block or fend off my blows. He was like, a roti canai dough and me working on him like a bangla baker.

Having noticed his peculiar behavior, I stopped the biffings (while still pinning him down). I was a bit worried that the pussy might be too weak to take anything more than a few punches… So I decided to just let him off with a stern warning and left him be. But just as I was leaving, he got up and walked briskly towards me and taunted :

“Why? You chickening out? I could do more punches from you…”

I was freaked, needless to say. That wasn’t a conventional confrontation that I’d expect to come from a guy. You know, I have my principles – I would never ‘beat up’ anyone who is immobilized, defenseless or just plain fucking out of his mind. When I’m into physical confrontation, I expect a two way and fair fight. That’s why I decided to digress this face-off right there and then, there’s no glory in creaming up an intellectually challenged person’s ass.

“I’m not chickening out Brutus. If you want me to punch you, put up a fight like a man”

Right after I said that, he came walking straight towards me. Thinking that he was making another sneaky move, I reflexed by throwing this really serious jab, hitting his left cheekbone. He absorbed that punch hard, then stumbled a few steps back and almost lost his balance. The impact was such that it got his cheek swelled up like he had half a boob job on his face and his face-tit hanging under his fucking eyeball.

“Back off, Brutus. I don’t want to fight a retard like you.”

“Oh really? You’re done then? Fine. Now, can you see the swell on my face? Well, that’s going to be your bane.”

He went on to threaten me, that he’s gonna show that swell to his cronies and then he’s going to issue me a ‘code 36 protocol’.

“What? A ‘code 36 protocol’? What the fuck was that? Some secret war code you share with your imaginary friends from outer space?”

“You’ll see.”

And he peeled off. The strange encounter with Brutus left me in a state of agitated mind. Throughout my class sessions, I kept thinking about his ‘code 36 protocol’ threat. Somehow, I had a feeling that it wasn’t simply just something about his imaginary alien friends. It’s something more sinister than that. I could see it from his wily eyes. And so, I went to ask around, and eventually, it came to my understanding that the ‘code 36 protocol’ was actually a slang adopted by the local gangsters – to order a hit on an identified target.

Of course I was damn worried upon learning that fact. You know, school gangsterism was very rife back then and getting cut up with machetes by gangsters was a very possible scenario. The thought of ‘code 36 protocol’ would haunt me for days, and it was like a thorn inside my flesh. For the first time in my life, I was worried about my safety inside the school compound. The matter was made worse when Brutus started hound me around the school compound, crooning the ‘code 36 protocol’ out of rhyme tune like a psychopath sicko… It was a psychological stress.

One day, I lamented this to one of my friends, who used to be in the same class with Brutus. I told him what happened and all about that ‘code 36 protocol’ I heard from Brutus… and that I’m gonna fucking die soon. That friend sniggered, then said

“Dude, have you got any idea how many ‘code 36 protocols’ had Brutus issued in his life? Innumerable. I have beaten him up myself a few times before… and each time, he would issue me the same stupid threat. Gangsters won’t give a damn about kid fights in school. And Brutus is not a fucking gangster. He’s just another pathetic moron. Don’t worry. If he keeps harassing you, we beat him up together. How about that?”

That was one of the most relieving assurance that I’ve heard in my life before. Sure enough, my friend was right; after about a week or so, Brutus stopped harassing me with his antics and moved on. He dropped out of school about a year later and the last I saw him, was in an illegal horse-betting arcade center… which I greeted him with a snigger. Wanted to send my regards to his imaginary alien friends then, but I eventually didn’t. He might have issues, but it would be unbecoming of me to goad him to his limits. Who knows? He might issue me another ‘code 36 protocol’ again? I’m going to be so dead if he did that again. Oboy…

michaelooi  | flashbacks  | 

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