Violence is Never The Answer

I had made plenty of friends growing up. However, one of my closest childhood friends, Bush had moved away when I was very young. We did everything together; did homework, played cops and robbers, watched scary movies, played video games, etc. He was practically a member of the family, always eating over for dinner or vise-versa. 

It wasn’t until my 9^th-grade year, the beginning of high school that Bush had returned. Seeing him after two years, brought me delight at first until all I saw was darkness. By the end of that first day of 9^th grade, we both realized we were in the same classes together. At first, I seemed jubilant about it, then after a few short weeks, I noticed Bush was different. He wasn’t the friend I had remembered growing up with. It wasn’t until the angry monster and the psychotic talking that started to horrify me.

It became all too real when myself, Bush, and a few friends went over to my grandmother’s house to play some pool in her basement. Laughing, joking, listening to System Of The Down while we each took turns playing each other. Bush and I were playing when it came down to the final eight ball. I had my chance to sink the eight ball right in a corner pocket perfectly and the rest of the group started picking on Bush for losing to a girl. I hit the cue ball and sunk that eight ball right in the corner pocket, hearing them yell like a crowd in a stadium when a football team winning the Superbowl. I had never played so well at pool, I was overly proud of myself. 

Bush, on the other hand, had suddenly turned into a monster. His eyes changed from his hazel eyes to a dark emptiness, as if they had turned black. His hands gripped firmly onto a pool stick as his voice changes from joyful to sinful, “you think that’s funny do you. It would be a shame for you to walk home by yourself tonight. You never know what might happen to you on these streets at night.” The rest of us looked at each other in utter shock of what we are hearing. Without saying a word, more than half of the guests leave, leaving myself, Bush and Roger (Bush’s best friend) in the basement, alone. Bush still holding onto the pool stick as he smiles with a death look on his face, “You know my grandmother is right upstairs. Knock it off or leave,” I stated. “I don’t think you can stop me. Besides, I’m having too much fun”… “That’s it I’m getting my grandmother” I get up from where I sat, and start to walk by Bush when suddenly I hear a loud crack, followed by sharp pain on my back. I drop to my knees trying to catch my breath, Roger, in fear of his life, leaves the basement. Bush starts laughing from my struggle as I glance over at the broken pool stick. Then, I realized it. Bush had used the pool stick as a bat over my back and had broken it in half. Anger, fear, and adrenaline consumed me. I knew it was either try to fight him or run away. I hear Bush’s footsteps behind me coming closer towards me. Without thinking I got up, turning toward Bush in one swift motion, punching him in the face. Stunned, he falls to the floor, giving me time to run upstairs and get help.

One of my best friends, Angel, in high school started to date Bush and asked me if I had a problem with it. I was in an internal conflict on whether or not I should tell her of the horrifying truth of the monster Bush had become. It would be cruel and unfriendly of me to not say something to her. So, I warned her of what Bush could possibly do, she thought it was a joke, and ignored my warning.

A few weeks go by of the two of them dating, Bush’s overall attitude seems to be improving; more cheerful, less moody, and no ugly monster had appeared from the shadows. Until one Friday afternoon, Angel asked Bush about an upcoming school function that she wanted to attend to. Bush had no intentions of going to any school function, especially one that involved dancing, so he told her no. Angel was mortified. All she wanted was to get dolled up for a night out, away from parents, to be with friends and good company. Instead, she asked if he wouldn’t mind if she could go with someone else. If it hadn’t for the two of them talking in the middle of the school day I’m not sure the response she got would have gone any better. He told her that he didn’t care, so she asked a close friend of hers to attend the function, little did she know Bush was developing an evil cynical plan that would soon bring her night out into a nightmare.

It was the night of the school, Angel was already at the function with her friends and date having a great time. Like any school function, there was good music, lighting, teacher chaperoning, and morals were high. It wasn’t long before Angel, her friends, and the rest of the attendees overhear a commotion going on at the entrance to the school function. Angel glances over to see what was going on and sees Bush holding a baseball bat yelling, “where is she?!”. Angel’s friends start to question her if that was Bush standing there while the rest of the teachers chaperoning the event run to aid the growing feud.

A few more minutes go by, followed by louder banging, clanking, and screaming, the flashing red, and blue lights arrive to escort Bush off the school grounds. Angel in utter shock by what she is seeing, ended the relationship between her and Bush the very next day.

Bush was never arrested.

Hide and Seek Gone Wrong

Growing up there were several different games I played with my brother and two sisters in our two-story, four-bedroom, three-bathroom colonial house. One of the games we played was hide and seek.

It was a Friday evening, the street lights were lit with glimmer and glow in cool dark streets of New York. My parents had decided to go out for a night on the town, leaving my oldest sister to watch the three of us. We were all watching the television when suddenly, out of blue, I suggested we play a game. My oldest sister first dismissed the idea, thinking we were wanting to play some board game. I turned towards her with a smile on my face, “how about hide and seek?” I asked. My sisters looked at each other and thought it was a great idea. Mother and father weren’t going to be home for awhile, which gave us plenty of time to play. But who would be it first, I wonder? Before I could even blurt anything out my oldest sister suggested she would be doing the seeking first and the rest of us would hide. I was excited, for it was the first time in several weeks that the four of us had done anything playful, exciting, or joyful together.

My sister turned around facing away from us and started counting “1…2…3…4…” and we were off. My brother and I tried to treck quietly up the old wooden staircase leading to the second floor without making it creek or crackle along the way. A shallow sound from my steps crept along the staircase as we climbed to the top. “15…16…17…” My sister continues to count as her voice drifts off further into the distance as we look for a place to hide. My second oldest sister decided to stay on the first floor and hide.

After several whispers between me and my brother, we decided to hide together in our parent’s bedroom closet. “She’ll never find us here” my brother stated. As we wait for her to seek us out, my brother remembered that we had beans for dinner and knew it doesn’t settle well with my stomach. He hears my stomach grumbling and groaning, “don’t you dare” he whispered. “I’m holding it in. I’m so nervous that she’s going to find us”, I said in a frantic whisper. My stomach continues to grumble, groaning, eager to relieve itself of the building gases.

Finally, we here the cricking and creaking the staircase of my sister’s footsteps as she walks up the staircase to the second floor. Room by room she looks, making different remarks as she looks, “I know you two are up here somewhere”… banging, clinking, and clanking of closet doors in another bedroom down the hall. “I’m going to find you sooner or later”… her footsteps slowly getting closer to my parent’s bedroom. I start to sweat, feeling my heartbeat rise. My brother kicks me by accident, frightening me, I release the ever building gases that have been building. “Did you just?”… The smell slowly drifts his way, “Oh my…!!! Get me out of here! I’m going to suffocate in here. It’s turning into a dutch oven in here!” He starts snickering, covering his face with his shirt, coughing from the smell. A few seconds go by, the sounds of my sister’s footsteps close-in, opening the closet doors, “I think you two are missing the point of hiding and seek here…Holy…O.K…Who farted?”… “Oh, thank god! Move it!... Move it!... Move it!... Must…Have…Fresh…Air”. My brother climbs over me, plowing through my sister, freeing himself of the horrific smells of the deep dark closet. He sits on the bed taking deep breaths, glancing over at me, “next time we have beans for dinner, I’m not hiding with you again”.

After my brother finished taking a few deep breaths of fresh clean air, we all went downstairs and had a good laugh about why I shouldn’t eat beans, and play; hide and seek.