*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 floor 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 behaviour, 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 leave 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 coming from a guy. You know, I have my principles - I would never ‘beat up’ anyone who are immobilized, defenseless or just plain fucking out of their 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 punch, 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 queer 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 can 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 harrassing you, we beat him up together. How about that?”

That was one of the most relieving reassurance 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 an 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…

That vindictive and unrelenting cop character in recent episodes of “House” kinda reminded me of someone I acquainted with many years ago. I was still schooling back then, and there was this guy from another class. (Let’s call him Brutus for convenience’ sake). Brutus wasn’t really a friend of mine, but was the kind whom I’d exchange a nod or two when we walk past each other. Often sported with an unkempt hair, wrinkled uniform and a pair of shoes with enough dirt to grow a tomato plant, one could instantly tell that he’s a consummate sleaze and has issues. And lucky me, I learnt about his ‘issues’ the hard way… on one fateful morning at the school corridor…

I was chatting with another friend of mine then, when I felt sharp swat behind my head. It wasn’t really a hard one, but I was very annoyed by it. I petulantly turned my head to look, and saw Brutus sitting behind me… pretending to look at the sky/bird or something. There weren’t anyone else within the reaching distance. Knowing that it was definitely him, I issued him a mild warning not to repeat that again

“Hey, don’t do that again, you hear me? It’s not funny.”

“What? What did I do?” - He denied with half a snigger on his face. Obviously, he was jesting with me… but really, whatever that ticked his clock that morning, it didn’t tick mine. Swatting people on the head is not my idea of fun. It’s an invitation for trouble.

But I chose to ignore him instead… you know, the last thing I ever wanted was trouble with a guy like him… a guy with issues… whose filthy hair that stunk, like a motherfucking skunk (hey! that rhymes!). Besides, I am picky when it comes to choosing my fights. I always refrain myself from fighting people with hygiene problems - like those Indian kids with cheap ass coconut hair-oils or people just like Brutus. Their smell stays on your hands and they’re always revolting. So, I tried to continue what I was doing before, chatting with my friend and minding my own business.

Just as I was about to resume my conversation, I was swatted for another time on the head. This time, I decided not to be so friendly. I turned to Brutus, and chided him

“HEY! What the fuck is your problem!?”

“What? Can’t you take a joke?”

“How about me swatting your head in return and call it a joke, you stupid fuck!?”

“I dare you. You think I’m scared??”

His dare kinda pushed my patience to the limit. Like any impetuous 14 year olds, I didn’t hesitate to give him a reasonably hard clout on the head and got myself ready for a violent confrontation. But surprisingly, he didn’t fight back. Instead, he bolted off from the corridor and disappeared from the scene. Thinking that he probably chickened out, I didn’t pursue the matter any further and went on with my usual business.

But that was a very big mistake that I shouldn’t have done. I should have seen it coming that he couldn’t have fled from the scene just like that. And I was made to pay for the stupid mistake about a couple minutes later, when Brutus snuck behind me and gave me a nasty headlock, immobilizing me.

(to be continued…)