We Three Kings

Growing up, one of my best friends shared my first name: Jeff.  Off an on, we were best friends, then bitter enemies.  Once we got into high school, though, we'd settled on being really good friends.  In the twelfth grade, the two of us became friends with another kid, from another school.  Ironically, his name was Jeff, too.  It was strange, but high school tends to be kind of a f*cked up time, anyway.

One Saturday afternoon, the three of us ventured to the downtown mall.  It's a place that I, personally, very seldom visited.  To this day, I still avoid the mall, downtown, due mainly to the cluster of homeless and street urchins that frequent the mall.  No matter the time of day, I do not feel safe.  However, as a brazen teenager, I was less concerned about personal safety.  Especially, when strolling the corridors with my pals.

In addition to all of us sharing the same first names, we also all possessed the same small stature.  Not weak, per se, but we weren't hulking testosterone-filled adolescents.  Average sized guys, but easily bullied if the opportunity ever presented itself.  On this Saturday afternoon, the opportunity presented itself.

A couple street urchins, as I call them.  Hoodlums, would be another name.  Peoples of questionable ethics, would be the a more "politically correct" terminology.  Today, I'm sure these delinquents are probably screwing the new inmates at whatever penitentiary they're currently incarcerated in, but at this time, I think they were still amping up to bigger criminal activities.  

I remember there were a couple of them.  Big and tall.  They definitely towered over our small frames.  "Give us your smokes!!" they commanded, cornering the three of us into a small alcove in the mall corridor, stuck between the A&W restaurant and some novelty gift shop.  I remember everything seemed to go dark.  I don't know if their size was blocking out the light or if it was fear warming over me, in either case I was fearful.

Being asthmatic, I never smoked cigarettes.  Neither did Jeff.  Jeff did, but they never asked him, directly at first, instead making the demands for cigarettes in general.  Of the two delinquents, the big guy in the rear, kept a look out, standing with his back towards us, his head swinging back and forth.  Left and right, perusing for security of any sort, while the big guy in front of him, standing over us, began drilling us for information.

Standing over me, staring at me through dead empty eyes, he demanded "Give me your smokes!"  I stuttered telling him that I didn't smoke.  He stared silently at me for what felt like forever. "What's your name?!" he asked softly, but menacingly.  I stammered as I told him.

He stepped to his right, my left, and repeated his demand to the next Jeff, who also told him he didn't smoke.  The punk stepped in real close and softly requested his name, just as he had with me.  "Jeff," he answered.

The immoral culprit did a double-take, looking at him then back at me, suspecting something was aloof.  He then took another step to his right, our left.  He placed his hand on the wall, posing his face directly in front of the third Jeff's face, as if daring him to strike back.  "Give me your smokes!"

Jeff shook his head, claiming he was out.  The hoodlum looked back at the two of us, who were staring at the floor, not making eye contact.  "And what's your name?"

"Jeff..."  This viscous prick, stopped, angrily staring back at all of us, determined that we were all lying and disrespecting him and he was ready to beat the living shit out of the three of us.  "You think this is a f*cking joke?"  Just then, his buddy tapped him on the shoulder, warning him that security was strolling up the promenade.  "You're lucky!" he said before he and his partner in crime rushed off in the opposite direction.

I don't remember a lot of my life, but I seem to remember the bad shit quite vividly.  I can recall every emotion that rushed through my body when a guy pulled a gun on me, in Edmonton, Alberta, aiming it straight in my face.  I can remember every emotion that I felt when I was physically beaten three days before my seventeenth birthday, by my drunken father, like it was slow-motion.  All the bad shit, I can remember the most intimate of details.  The day that me and my two friends, Jeff and Jeff, nearly got beaten to a pulp, simply because our parents liked the name Jeffrey, I can remember like it happened yesterday.

I'm not friends with them anymore.  I can't remember why...

F*ck Bullies!!!!

Kids be getting soft these days. That's what I'm thinking. Decades of mothers and fathers coddling their kids, teaching them to be soft, rather than calloused to what life brings them. If they fall down and scrape their knee, they're babied until the bleeding stops, rather than dad calling out, "Suck it up you wimp!" The latter is how I was raised. That and a lot more.

I see in the news repeatedly how this teenager and that teenager, is turning to suicide in order to deal with bullying in school. What could be said that is SO bad, that ending your life is better than just coping with the constant scurrility.

I, myself, was bullied relentlessly in my early school years. I recall being singled out in the seventh, eighth and ninth grades, especially. Growing up, I was always a sort of scrawny little guy, and therefore a prime target for those bigger than myself. I remember one fellow, in the seventh and eighth grades, named Jimmy. He was a couple years older than the rest of us, high school age I think, and this f*cker would constantly pick on me and try to beat on me. I don't understand why that was. One time he cornered me on the playground, ready to pummel me with his fists, accusing me of "thinking I was so cool". That statement, for the time, was the furthest thing from the truth. Today, on the other hand, I KNOW I am so cool. (Just look at my hair! Damn, I look good!)

High school, presented me with entirely new challenges. Here I was, placed into a sea of adolescents much bigger and older than myself. A whole new pool of social acceptance. I can remember this one guy, a couple of grades above me, who terrorized me for my entire freshman year. Any chance he got, he'd corner me and just lay into me with the insults. I can't remember much about the f*cker, other than he had kind of a pansy mustache, one of those faggy teenage ones, and this deep-seated scowl on his face. I don't remember ever seeing him with his friends, where he'd have a smile on his face. He'd always be a step or two behind a couple other guys, until he'd see me, then his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, and the bullying commenced shortly after that. Midway through the school year, I found myself running late to classes, because I had to take the long way around the school, just to avoid crossing paths with that f*cking guy.

Not once, though, throughout all the hazing and bullying, did I ever think that I'd rather be dead than deal with all this shit. I don't know exactly what it took for me to "survive" the bullying. Lord knows that it wasn't that I hit a growth spurt over the summer. I didn't get that until I was eighteen years old. Far too late for any of it to matter. But looking back now, I can only think it was a couple of things that helped me to survive the taunting.

Number one, was I knew the truth. They'd say one thing, but I knew the alternative to be the truth. The goof in high school, constantly had me cornered, pushed back between a couple of lockers, towering over me calling me "a little faggot" and other similar slurs, but I always knew that I was not a gay. (He probably was, but I sure as hell was not!)

Number two, and I had to think long and hard on this one, but it makes sense. I grew up in an alcoholic family. That is, my dad was an alcoholic, the rest of us were on the receiving end of it. Today I harbour no ill-will towards my dad, recognizing the experience as Jeckyll & Hyde. When he was sober, my dad was the best. When he was drunk, which at the time was A LOT, he was a f*cking horror show. Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger have nothing on my dad when he was rip-snortin' drunk. And this, I believe is the other reason I survived the bullying I received at school. For I know, no matter what these small-dicked idiots could dish out on me at school, my drunk father could dish out ten times (if not more) worse abuse.

So that is my secret to success, but what about all these teenagers today, who would rather swallow a bottle of pills or eat a f*ckin' bullet, than deal with the atrocities that berate them on a daily basis. Some might argue that today's youth are faced with an entirely different era than when I was a boy. Today, there's something called "cyber-bullying", in which tech-savvy bullies take to the world wide web, and post a plethora of untruths on Facebook, Twitter and whatever other social websites there are. Well I don't buy this a a viable reason for offing one's self. Bullies take to these sites because of the anonymity involved. Why, then, can't the victims return like with like. Fight fire with fire. Do like Sean Connery said in the Untouchables. "If they bring a knife, you bring a gun. If they put one of your guys in the hospital, you put one of theirs in the morgue."

Now as I'm writing that line, I have flashbacks of Columbine and alike. I don't mean victims of bullying should bring small arms to school and open fire. That's a bullshit, p*ssy way out of things. I mean fight your oppressors with words. I personally have attacked many a person with my words, and in some instances have caused quite a turmoil. I'm still receiving mail concerning my pledge that Chewbacca from Star Wars, was gay for Han Solo, and I suspect I will continue to receive mail over that. But that's good. It means I'm always on someone's mind. The victims of bullying can do the same. Post all sorts of shit about your bully. It doesn't matter if it's true. None of the shit they're saying about you is truth (in all likelihood).

Today, there's a large movement to end bullying. A valiant effort, this is true. I don't think we will ever see the end of bullying, to be completely honest, as bullying is everywhere. Corporate America bullies the poor. Big government bullies the other parties. "The Simpsons" has been on TV for over two decades now, and nearly every week, you see poor Bart and Milhouse handing over their lunch money to the school bullies. The WWE, which I have not laid eyes upon since Wrestlemania, constantly pits one super heavyweight wrestler against a lightweight grappler. Tell me how fair it is to see a 400lb behemoth fight against another fellow who's barely 5'8"?

Bullying is everywhere. It's a global epidemic. It will never end, sadly. So we need to find other alternatives to combating it. Teachers need to be more diligent. Whenever I was cornered as a young lad, lots of teachers would pass by, but not a one ever stopped to check and see if I was okay. They'd just smile and nod and keep on their way. I think most teachers and school officials know it to be going on, but are oblivious to recognizing it when they come upon it. I think better training needs to be given to school officials and stronger consequences to those who are caught.

"A show of hands. Who here has been the victim of bullying?" a man said to a group of kids during a television program earlier. A majority of hands were raised, including his own. "Now who here has bullied other people?" No hands were raised, except his own. He, admitting that in addition to being bullied, he too had bullied others. Only then, through that honesty, did one or two hands get raised. Everyone is willing to admit they're picked on, but never want to admit to being the monster themselves. As for me. Yeah. I think it could be said, that I've bullied a couple others. I don't remember who, or what the circumstance, but I have bullied. I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is. I can only learn from it and move on.

The same goes for those who find themselves victim to bullying and ridicule. Don't f*cking kill yourself. That shit doesn't solve anything. It makes your family miserable, because they couldn't help you. It makes the bullies feel invincible because they drove you to it. What you need to do, is LIVE. Live your life. If for no other reason, but out of spite. If your oppressors "hate" you that much, think of how miserable you're going to make their shitty little lives, by living yours to the fullest. Then when your a success, you can look down your nose at them as they fill your car up with gas or give you french fries with your burger order. F*ck them.