The other day I wrote to Flyboy and today he wrote back.
Dear Author,

Did I ever tell you about the time I lost my temper back in the fourth grade? Jason Johnson was picking on this little kid, Micah. Micah was about half Jason’s size (everybody was about half Jason’s size because Jason was huge!) and walked around with his nose buried in a book all the time. Never bothered anyone. When he was reading Micah could just tune out the rest of the world, even Jason Johnson and all the stupid comments Jason would make trying to get a rise out of Micah.

Micah never did anything to Jason. He didn’t talk to him. He didn’t make eye contact. Nothing.

And that made Jason mad. He started kicking Micah every time he walked by. Stole his books from him and ripped pages out so they were ruined. He spit on him, threw stuff at him at lunch, popped the tires on his bike, typical bully stuff.

And Micah just ignored it all. Never said a word. Never told a teacher. Nothing.

So one day Jason just snapped. Saw Micah sitting under a tree, reading, and decided to beat the crap out of him. I was riding my bike home from school and started to ride on by until I realized that Micah wasn’t fighting back. He was just letting Jason beat on him and I think Jason was mad enough to kill him.

I saw red. Yeah, just like they say in books. I saw this film of red in front of me and I charged at Jason from about 20 feet away. Torpedoed right into the side him and knocked him off of Micah. Before he could get away I plopped on his stomach and started beating on his face and his chest feeling fifteen different kinds of angry all at the same time. He was screaming and calling me names and finally pushed me off and then we got into it good. By the time a couple of high school kids pulled us apart we were both pretty bloodied up. I had a black eye and a broken wrist. Jason was missing a couple of front teeth. Micah was nowhere around.

Go ahead and cut me loose.

Consider yourself warned.