Your "fighting back against a bully" stories here

Inspired by the “Bully victim strikes back” video thread in this forum I thought we could share our own stories.

My first one I have almost no memory of but my parents and older sisters tell it often. I must have been around the age of 5 and we belonged to a sportsmen club (they had land and a clubhouse etc.) and they had a small attached playground for the kids. Some little bully kid liked to pick on the younger kids there and pour sand in their hair from the sandbox. Apparently I was one of his regular victims. The bully’s parents just shrugged and blew anyone off who brought it up. My sisters then instructed me to “punch him right in the nose” if he ever started up again. So I toke them at their word, the kid started up, so I hauled off and smacked him right in the nose. From what I heard he got an immediate gushing nose-bleed and the sight of his own blood terrified the kid. He never bothered anyone again.

The other one was 7th grade. Asshole followed me home from school every day shoving me, poking, throwing snowballs, tripping. I usually tried to ignore him but finally got fed up. One day he was right behind me so I immediately stopped, turned around, and swung for his face as hard as I could. He pulled back just enough so I missed his face but I did manage to catch his glasses which were flung about 10 feet away into 3 feet of snow. I then just walked away as he desperately went searching for his now impossible to find lost glasses. I saw him the next day sans glasses and he left me alone after that.

There was this kid in grade school who used to bully me all the time. When we got to Junior High, he kept it up, although it was a bigger school, so we had less chance to interact. One day, I was eating lunch in the cafeteria, and he came over and started punching me in the arm. I finally had had enough, so I stood up, took him by the shoulders and pushed him back and up against a wall, where I held him and slammed his back into the wall, as punctuation, while telling him to never, ever touch me again. He never did.

The only one that ever really got physical with me was one of my brothers. He’s 11 years older. I was ~13 when he grabbed my feet and dangled me over the stairwell in our house. He finally graduated college a few years later, returned home to look for work, and started picking fights. That ended the day I started slamming his head into a wall.

One of the football players in high school was threatening me in class one day, telling me he was going to beat me up in the parking lot after school. To this day, I have no idea why he was mad at me. I just looked at him and said something to the effect of, “So you’re going to beat up a wimpy nerd?” (I was skinny and definitely not athletic.) “That’ll really impress the girls. What are you going to do for an encore? Beat up a girl scout and take her cookies?” He got embarrassed when he realized that a lot of people were listening and seemed really amused at him (including a number of pretty girls). Never heard another disparaging word from him.

Story #1: In 6th grade, two younger kids used to harass me, but it wasn’t physical until one of them decided to man up after school one day. He apparently told his friend that he could “pound” me. I had a couple of books in one hand, and when he reached out and cuffed me in the face, I slammed his head with the books. His older brother, who actually was a bad-ass, had apparently told him to always grab your opponents balls, which he proceeded to do. Since I was taller than he was, and he was bent over, I proceeded to pound his kidneys until he let go and collapsed on the ground, where I pinned his arms with my knees. Before I could smash his face, the school patrol showed up and pulled me off. Last problem I had with him or his cohort.

Story #2: I’m in 9th grade, hanging with some “friends” in another guy’s basement shooting some pool. The mutual acquaintance, whose house it was, didn’t much like me, nor I him. We’re fooling around at the table when he says: “If you do that again, I’m going to kick your ass.” So of course I did it again, and he came at me, gets me in a headlock and makes the mistake of taking me down onto the couch instead of the floor. It wasn’t a big deal until he started chanting “Do you give? Do you give?”, which really pissed me off. Using strength I didn’t know I had, along with some leverage supplied by the couch, I threw him off, knocked him down, then did a knee drop onto the side of his head, meanwhile screaming: “DO YOU GIVE, MOTHERFUCKER!!!???” End of friendships all around.

Story #3: But for plain old everyday make your life miserable bullying, the seventh grade had to be the worst. Three guys made it their misson to make my life a living hell, particularly during gym class, where bullying is encouraged and rewarded. One of them had his school locker above mine, and made a point of dropping his books on my head on a daily basis. My grades steadily dropped into the cellar, and I spent most of my time trying to avoid these assholes.

Then I met the son of a friend of my parents, who they brought over to the house. In the course of bullshitting with the kid, the story came out. He asked me for some details, and wondered why I didn’t fight back, and that he had been suspended three times for fighting. Well, there are three of them, for one. Also, nobody ever taught me how to take care of assholes.

I didn’t think much more about it, but on the next school day, I was taking books out of my locker and the guy above me starts opening his. I awaite the usual cascade of books onto my head, when suddenly the guy disappears and I hear a crash behind me. I turned to find my new acquaintance (and savior, as it turns out), holding the asshole up against the lockers by the throat and telling him that if he or his buddies ever fucked with me again, there would be some serious retribution. While I wish that I had been the one to stand up for myself, it did teach me to never take shit from anybody ever again.

1st grade. A guy in the second grade with a guy from the 1st grade had been bothering me for a while. One day, the backed me up against a wall. The older one said “We’re two against you”. Something in my 6yo brain took less than a second to compute: backed up against the wall+ two against me+ he said they’re two against me so he’s intent on attacking=strike first at the biggest threat. I started punching the older guy who immediately went to the ground where I kept punching him. The guy my age just looked at us.
I kind of played with the older guy later in the year. At some point he punched me once, apparently feeling like he had to get one in.

I never got bullied much, but my brothers did. When I was in 9th grade, I had weight training class when my younger brother (7th grade) had PE. There was a kid in my grade that liked to pick on the younger kids. He would intentionally bump into them, or trip them, or pull their shorts down. Well, one day I guess it was my little brother’s turn, and I saw him intentionally bump into him hard enough to knock him back and make him fall over one of the changing benches. I ran over and pinned him against the lockers and screamed in his face that he shouldn’t fuck with my brother. Then I gave him two open-handed slaps across the face which he just stood there and took. He said, “sorry man” and sheepishly walked off.

Next day at the end of classes, the buses are loading up the kids to take them home, and I have to stop to take a piss before I walk out to my bus. When I’m done at the urinal I turn around and who’s standing there? The bully. And three of his largish friends. The bully swings at me with what I think was wooden dowel that he must’ve gotten from wood shop, and catches me in the collar and glances up and crashes into my cheekbone. At that instant one of his friends charge me and buries his head into my gut and knocks the wind out of me. I crumple to the ground where they begin to beat the ever-loving shit out of me. Last thing I remember, I managed to get to a corner of the bathroom, rolled over onto my stomach and curled up into a ball, while they continued to kick, punch, and hit me with that wooden rod. I’d like to say I got a couple of good shots in, but that’s not how it happened.

I ended up with two cracked ribs, a severely bruised cheekbone, a broken nose, two broken fingers on my right hand, and a busted lip. I needed 16 stitches to close the gash in my face.

I ratted them out, and they all got expelled. Three of them showed up at a party that my friends and I were at that summer, and my friends handed them a sound trouncing. I never had any problems with them after they gave me the beating (meaning, they never sought me out or anything), but that was more than likely because we went to different high schools after that summer.

Moral of the story? Sometimes the bully isn’t some insecure attention-seeker that will back down and see the error of their ways at the slightest confrontation. Sometimes they’re just assholes that know how to swing a stick.

**Bare drysuit **

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