Life is Not an Equal Fight

This is a piece of my day.

I get out of the shower, stand there in my t-shirt and pajamas, brushing my hair in the foggy mirror. I hear a knock at the front door. I ignore it; anybody for me goes to the side door. After 30 seconds or so the door closes with no second knock. I hear the gate to the backyard slam closed. “Fucking hell, I’m all alone to face this” I think to myself, not actually knowing what to expect.

In retrospect I would have liked to have had my knife, 8 inch blade, black painted steel and stamped with an imperial eagle, the same eagle that I wear on the Solidarnosc button on my hood. I could have used my machete, or a bat, something. But these thoughts come after. Before doing anything, before thinking about grabbing anything, I check out my fucking property. Sure enough, some scrawny gangster fuck, and a big idiot hillbilly kid. Both are maybe 17 or 18.

Two people, two stupid people, I am not a big person, maybe 115 pounds. Scrawny kid won’t be a problem, but this big kid has got almost a foot on me, and is much thicker. “I’m going to get my ass kicked.” Says my brain. I take about 2 seconds to prepare, not even thinking about going out there with a weapon. Just thinking about how this is going to be bad.

Out the door I go, scrawny gangster sees me, runs and hops the fence and stands on the other side to watch how things between me and hick boy play out. Now I’m barely thinking, my body sort of goes into autopilot, like all my actions are predetermined, I have got no choice in what I do.

“You are taking nothing” are my first words. I am not retarded. I completely understand the situation, what he wants, why he is here. “I see what you have up there” he says to me. Obviously, you robbed me before, I know who you are, I just never saw your face until today. “I’m defending my property.” I say lamely.

He turns his back to me and starts to climb up to the balcony. How I wish I had a knife at this moment to drive into his side. I have my hands and feet instead. “Go until you are unconscious.” Says my brain, and gives me a push forward.

I grab him and pull him down. He turns grabs my shirt and pushes me against the wall. Without really noticing my right hand has found his neck, I squeeze, trying to drive my fingers into the stupid flesh. I would like to crush the life out of him. He still is holding on to my shirt but hasn’t hit me, which I find surprising. I’m trying to free myself, but effort is on that fat neck, it is most important.

“He is just defending his property.” I hear the gangster whine, robotically repeating my earlier words. Hillbilly lets go and my fingers go slack. “Get the fuck out of here. Get the fuck off my property.” My opponent goes and hops the fence. I hear a car start from the next door driveway, and they are gone. Goddamnit, I didn’t even think to look at the plates on the car.

In the house I go, grab my knife, it goes to sit by the front door, grab my machete; it goes to sit by the back door. I sat alone, thinking about all the things I should have done, the things that I can do in the future. My sister’s boyfriend comes home. “Finally. We got work to do” I say.

Down they come, hours upon hours of trimming.

All I can think about is how I wanted a gun before this incident, after this invasion it only confirms that a firearm has many uses to me. I’ve used this incident to explain to the skeptical family, that me purchasing a gun, is a good idea. “It’s good for turkey hunting and keeping delinquents away.” I say. “It will take any kind of life.” I think to myself.