The time I got into a fight

Are you ready for this story? I bet you thought I was quite chilled out, not the type to get all excitable? Well, if that is what you thought about me, everything is about to change. Get ready to hear the story of My Big Fight.

There was a girl at school called Gemma Williams. She had fluffy hair and a slightly nasal voice and that’s all I really remember about her. O, I also remember some silly stories she told. For example, she said her hair had been dyed at the roots just after she was born because she was ginger and her parents hated it.

One time, when everyone was in the playground, we disagreed about something. I’ve no idea what. We were all standing in a group and she turned and walked away from me while I was in the middle of saying something. This infuriated me. I lifted my right foot and whipped it against her leg. Who knows why I did this?! I never punched or kicked or anything.

Anyway, I kicked the top of her leg. She looked taken aback and scurried off.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was My Big Fight!

It’s still the most violent exchange I’ve ever taken part in, apart from when I went to karate classes and kickboxing classes but that doesn’t count.

After The Fight, she ran off to the toilet and was apparently seen rubbing and punching the part of her leg that I had kicked. She then ran off to the teacher and told her and showed off the reddened leg. I was duly told off and my lesson was learned.

And I have never had a fight since then. I am a reformed character and have turned my back on violence.

I bet you’re all relieved to hear I’m back on the straight and narrow after all that… um…. fighting…

PS. I googled the name of the boy I wrote about the other day in The Boy I Once Loved and he’s doing a lot of acting now. He lives in London and was in a musical I went to see a few years ago! How strange.

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4 responses to this post.

  1. Wow, a lady no one should mess with 🙂 Your blogs kick.

    Reply

  2. I had two big fights, one with my fifth grade home room teacher. She pulled my ear. Don’t pull my ear. I laid her out on the floor. Subsequently dismissed from school.

    The other one was in sixth grade. I was a super fast typist and worked on the school newspaper. One of the female reports always turned in her stories five or ten minutes AFTER they were due and then told the teacher that I had refused to type them. Finally, one Friday she came in ten minutes late as usual and I just stood up and knocked her out. Ten years later, and 300 miles away, she wound up marrying my best friend. We laugh about our youth now.

    Reply

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