The *** and the Parliament

On my way home from the post office, I heard the approaching sound of wheels on gravel and recognized it instantly—skateboards. I detected two of them, and based on my prior experience with skaters, I calculated that there was approximately a ninety-six percent chance that at least one of them would want to beat me up.

I cursed under my breath and tried to disappear further into the shadows. However, in my panic, I failed to notice that my shoe had come untied. That is, until I tripped.

So much for disappearing.

My books flew up into the air around me, and I landed face first in the cement. I let out a pitiful moan of pain but braced myself for even more.

A bout of hysterical laughter came from behind me. I struggled to lift myself off the ground as the bully approached. "Nice one, spaz!" he said before tugging me to my feet by the collar of my shirt.

"Please leave me alone," I requested. "I've got to get home."

He only continued to laugh. "Why? Is your mommy worried about you?"

This time I didn't bother. I didn't know why I had wasted my breath to begin with. Bullies didn't respond to the requests of weakling freshmen such as myself. The most I could hope for at this point was to walk away from here without need of medical assistance.

As if to destroy that hope, the bully's fist sailed into my face, knocking me off my feet a second time. Dizzily, my left hand came up to feel my nose and became covered in a sticky liquid.

Blood. My blood. Pouring out of my nose and onto the ground beneath me.

I began to slip out of consciousness.