In honor of the Mayweather vs Mcgregor fight this past weekend, I'd like to share the story of the one fight in school that I was involved in. For the sake of anonymity and me not wanting to get my teeth kicked in, we will just call the other two people involved May and Mac.
It was 6th grade, a year like any other, I was acing all of my classes and looking good in my glasses. Everyone was at their lockers and May had his locker right next to mine and Mac comes over and starts yelling at him because he stole his girlfriend or his Beyblades or something. I grabbed my books as quickly as I could because my next class was out in the giant microwave oven that the faculty referred to as the portables. Verbal jabs quickly turned to violence and thus began the Pelham Memorial School Punch-Off!
The force from one of Macs' punches sends May staggering backwards right into little old me and my books, my glasses and my sense of dignity go flying. You see, I had perfect attendance up to that point and I wasn't about to allow a couple of pubescent power punchers mess that up. I gathered my books, composed myself and although the odds of me now making it to class on time were slim to none, my fellow classmates encouraged me to beat Father Time and march on with their chanting of "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Should I have been running in the halls? No, but that's just the kind of rebel that I am when the hall monitors have busied themselves with restraining a couple of Wanderlei Silva wannabes.
Two years of sprints on the track and going for runs that were longer and slower distance runs, which our coach felt completely okay with shortening by just telling us to "Go do LSD" allowed me to purposefully and punctually cross the classroom threshold just as the bell rang. Tales of my incredible feat (or feet) had already spread as I overheard two girls from the cheerleading squad saying "Did you see what happened in the hall?"
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