Post by Radrook Admin on Jun 29, 2024 13:19:08 GMT -5
The Fighter!
Fifteen year old Joseph, an unusually tall, strong and muscular fifteen-year old blond, heavily-freckled round-faced kid, was feeling a sense of impending doom as he made his way down the highly-polished school hallway towards the principal's office.
True, he had been summoned there numerous times before for having engaged in fights in the school restrooms, and had been repeatedly reprimanded for bullying smaller kids. Yet, this time, there was something about it that didn’t quite feel right.
For example, this time, with his parents' permission, the appointment had been scheduled after school. So the meticulously clean school hallway leading there was totally empty. Furthermore, unlike the numerous previous occasions, this time he was being ushered there by two tall, grimly silent, husky Anglo American men, who seemed to march more than they walked. As if they were on some urgent mission of some kind.
"He’s waiting for you!" one of them finally uttered emotionlessly while gesturing stiffly towards the office door for him to go inside.
He also noticed that both had remained standing stiffly at attention outside the Principal's office door as if to block his way if he attempted to escape. Something was definitely up. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but it didn't look good.
“Hello! Joseph!" the principal Alexander Espinosa, a short, bald, husky, dark-complexioned man in his late fifties, with typical Middle Eastern features, said from behind the rectangular mahogany office desk. He was wearing a black blazer, black trousers and shirt, as was his custom, along with those annoying dark eyeglasses.
Above, him, on the office's beige plaster wall, hung his many diplomas, degrees and certificates of merit which Joseph couldn't make out, but which lent the him a certain foreboding authority. Just then, before Joseph could respond to the principal's greeting, a large Bald Eagle, suddenly slammed against the office window with a loud thud, screeching from the pain and splattering the glass with droplets of blood from the sparrow it was clasping firmly in its talons.
It reminded Joseph of the time that he had slammed Mike Garcia, this small nerd, head-first into the restroom's concrete floor and had repeatedly kicked him in the ribs as he lay unconscious in a pull of his own blood. He smiled sadistically at the image.
“Have a seat young man!" the principal calmly muttered, as if nothing unusual at all had just occurred.
“What is it now sir?" joseph responded nervously after sitting in the chair.
“Now?" the principal asked, inquisitively arching one bushy black eyebrow.
“Yeah, now! Cuz you’re always telling me to come to this office to give me advice!" Joseph responded defiantly.
“Well, true! Young man! Very true indeed! I certainly have summoned you here on numerous occasions to give you advice. Yet, there has always been a very good reason for it, now hasn’t there, son?”
“You mean because of my fighting in the restrooms?” Joseph said after an extended silence. “Everybody fights in those restrooms sir. I'm a not the only one!"”
“Well, yes! Of course! That is certainly true, young man!" the principal responded. Then after a deep tired sigh of resignation before the inevitable he leaned toward Joseph and whispered as if sharing some kind of secret conspiracy:
“Yet, among all the fighters, you have proven yourself to be very exceptional, my boy! You do know that, now don’t you-Joseph?" he asked with a broad smile slowly extending itself across his face while distractedly gesturing at the droplets of blood which the Bald Eagle had just splattered on his window as it had plunged talons beak into the struggling prey.
“In what way sir?” Joseph responded nervously, feeling like a game-fish who had been firmly hooked after taking the bait, and was now being unceremoniously reeled in.
“You really don’t know, do you son?” the principal said in a very deep, calm paternalistic way.
“Sir, all I know is that I have been told to come here today after school hours with those two weird dudes ushering me down the hall as if I wuz under arrest. What’s up man?”
“Well son, you do have a right to know.
"That’s right!” Joseph responded defiantly. "I wanna know!"
“Well, first my boy, of all the teens in this school, you are very exceptional, so after extensive consideration of your capabilities and potentials, the government has decided that such talent deserves a reward.
“A Reward?" Joseph asked, for the first time feeling that things were maybe not going to be as bad as he had been imagining them to be.
“Yes son, a reward that is in full accordance with your exceptional aptitudes." the principal muttered, as he carefully reviewed Joseph’s school record which was being displayed on his laptop computer screen.
"What talents are you talking about sir? You know that I have lousy grade. And you know why? Cuz I don’t study. That’s why all my grades are screwed and I don’t care what you, nor what my damn dumb parents say. Screw you all! You know what I really care about dude? Kicking ass! And nobody kicks ass like me! So what you talking about giving me a reward dude? What's up! What’s up? What’s up? What’s up?"
“But that’s exactly it young man!" the principle said suddenly rising from his seat as if galvanized by an electrical surge. .
“That is exactly why the government feels that you should be rewarded. Because of your natural inclination towards violence, Because of your insatiable need to fight. Because of the effusive happiness that you feel in being engaged in all the blood and the gore that your violence produces son. Do you understand now? Do you son? ”
For a few moments, Joseph felt confused. After all, the principal had always reprimanded him for wasting his time fighting. Also, what reward could he possibly mean?
“So what reward are they going to give me?" Joseph nervously asked, after hearing a snicker from one of the two men stationed at the office entrance.
“Well son, the reward of being transferred to where you can fight unrestricted all day long."
“I don’t want to...."
“You see, courtesy of the federal government, you are being transported to the Russian Ukrainian War zone. Once there, you will be provided with the weapons necessary for you to enjoy yourself. But don’t worry, you will not be alone. You see Joe, the government has decided to send thousands of others just like you which it has gathered from the schools.
All whom have been kicking and stomping on skulls, savagely slamming other students into the concrete floors, sadistically punching student faces, rabidly biting and scratching while fighting in the school restrooms for years, and who just can’t seem to stop. So you certainly will not find yourself all alone Joe. You will be in good company. Birds of a feather, as the saying goes!”
At that, the office door suddenly flew open, and the two burly guards, who were actually MPs came in, sedated Joseph who was desperately struggling to get away. Then they, calmly loaded his ass into their Jeep, transported him to the airport, from where he was transferred to the front lines in Ukraine.
There along his other violently-inclined buddies, he would no longer need to be restrained nor constantly admonished. There he could fully and legally satisfy his pathological need to fight all day long to his heart’s content, and at least, now his fighting would be contributing to some noble purpose instead of serving as a hindrance to those who were attending school in order to learn, which is what attending school is supposed to be about.
True, he had been summoned there numerous times before for having engaged in fights in the school restrooms, and had been repeatedly reprimanded for bullying smaller kids. Yet, this time, there was something about it that didn’t quite feel right.
For example, this time, with his parents' permission, the appointment had been scheduled after school. So the meticulously clean school hallway leading there was totally empty. Furthermore, unlike the numerous previous occasions, this time he was being ushered there by two tall, grimly silent, husky Anglo American men, who seemed to march more than they walked. As if they were on some urgent mission of some kind.
"He’s waiting for you!" one of them finally uttered emotionlessly while gesturing stiffly towards the office door for him to go inside.
He also noticed that both had remained standing stiffly at attention outside the Principal's office door as if to block his way if he attempted to escape. Something was definitely up. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but it didn't look good.
“Hello! Joseph!" the principal Alexander Espinosa, a short, bald, husky, dark-complexioned man in his late fifties, with typical Middle Eastern features, said from behind the rectangular mahogany office desk. He was wearing a black blazer, black trousers and shirt, as was his custom, along with those annoying dark eyeglasses.
Above, him, on the office's beige plaster wall, hung his many diplomas, degrees and certificates of merit which Joseph couldn't make out, but which lent the him a certain foreboding authority. Just then, before Joseph could respond to the principal's greeting, a large Bald Eagle, suddenly slammed against the office window with a loud thud, screeching from the pain and splattering the glass with droplets of blood from the sparrow it was clasping firmly in its talons.
It reminded Joseph of the time that he had slammed Mike Garcia, this small nerd, head-first into the restroom's concrete floor and had repeatedly kicked him in the ribs as he lay unconscious in a pull of his own blood. He smiled sadistically at the image.
“Have a seat young man!" the principal calmly muttered, as if nothing unusual at all had just occurred.
“What is it now sir?" joseph responded nervously after sitting in the chair.
“Now?" the principal asked, inquisitively arching one bushy black eyebrow.
“Yeah, now! Cuz you’re always telling me to come to this office to give me advice!" Joseph responded defiantly.
“Well, true! Young man! Very true indeed! I certainly have summoned you here on numerous occasions to give you advice. Yet, there has always been a very good reason for it, now hasn’t there, son?”
“You mean because of my fighting in the restrooms?” Joseph said after an extended silence. “Everybody fights in those restrooms sir. I'm a not the only one!"”
“Well, yes! Of course! That is certainly true, young man!" the principal responded. Then after a deep tired sigh of resignation before the inevitable he leaned toward Joseph and whispered as if sharing some kind of secret conspiracy:
“Yet, among all the fighters, you have proven yourself to be very exceptional, my boy! You do know that, now don’t you-Joseph?" he asked with a broad smile slowly extending itself across his face while distractedly gesturing at the droplets of blood which the Bald Eagle had just splattered on his window as it had plunged talons beak into the struggling prey.
“In what way sir?” Joseph responded nervously, feeling like a game-fish who had been firmly hooked after taking the bait, and was now being unceremoniously reeled in.
“You really don’t know, do you son?” the principal said in a very deep, calm paternalistic way.
“Sir, all I know is that I have been told to come here today after school hours with those two weird dudes ushering me down the hall as if I wuz under arrest. What’s up man?”
“Well son, you do have a right to know.
"That’s right!” Joseph responded defiantly. "I wanna know!"
“Well, first my boy, of all the teens in this school, you are very exceptional, so after extensive consideration of your capabilities and potentials, the government has decided that such talent deserves a reward.
“A Reward?" Joseph asked, for the first time feeling that things were maybe not going to be as bad as he had been imagining them to be.
“Yes son, a reward that is in full accordance with your exceptional aptitudes." the principal muttered, as he carefully reviewed Joseph’s school record which was being displayed on his laptop computer screen.
"What talents are you talking about sir? You know that I have lousy grade. And you know why? Cuz I don’t study. That’s why all my grades are screwed and I don’t care what you, nor what my damn dumb parents say. Screw you all! You know what I really care about dude? Kicking ass! And nobody kicks ass like me! So what you talking about giving me a reward dude? What's up! What’s up? What’s up? What’s up?"
“But that’s exactly it young man!" the principle said suddenly rising from his seat as if galvanized by an electrical surge. .
“That is exactly why the government feels that you should be rewarded. Because of your natural inclination towards violence, Because of your insatiable need to fight. Because of the effusive happiness that you feel in being engaged in all the blood and the gore that your violence produces son. Do you understand now? Do you son? ”
For a few moments, Joseph felt confused. After all, the principal had always reprimanded him for wasting his time fighting. Also, what reward could he possibly mean?
“So what reward are they going to give me?" Joseph nervously asked, after hearing a snicker from one of the two men stationed at the office entrance.
“Well son, the reward of being transferred to where you can fight unrestricted all day long."
“I don’t want to...."
“You see, courtesy of the federal government, you are being transported to the Russian Ukrainian War zone. Once there, you will be provided with the weapons necessary for you to enjoy yourself. But don’t worry, you will not be alone. You see Joe, the government has decided to send thousands of others just like you which it has gathered from the schools.
All whom have been kicking and stomping on skulls, savagely slamming other students into the concrete floors, sadistically punching student faces, rabidly biting and scratching while fighting in the school restrooms for years, and who just can’t seem to stop. So you certainly will not find yourself all alone Joe. You will be in good company. Birds of a feather, as the saying goes!”
At that, the office door suddenly flew open, and the two burly guards, who were actually MPs came in, sedated Joseph who was desperately struggling to get away. Then they, calmly loaded his ass into their Jeep, transported him to the airport, from where he was transferred to the front lines in Ukraine.
There along his other violently-inclined buddies, he would no longer need to be restrained nor constantly admonished. There he could fully and legally satisfy his pathological need to fight all day long to his heart’s content, and at least, now his fighting would be contributing to some noble purpose instead of serving as a hindrance to those who were attending school in order to learn, which is what attending school is supposed to be about.