The Pirate by Jón Gnarr

Author:Jón Gnarr
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781941920213
Publisher: Deep Vellum Publishing
Published: 2015-10-28T00:00:00+00:00

BOOZE

From then on, the physical abuse at the hands of kids in my neighborhood got worse. They sometimes stopped me on school grounds, held me down, and demanded:

“Why are you so stupid? Why are you so ugly? Can I spit on you?”

Then they would punch me repeatedly in the stomach. Next they’d kick me. When I got away, they came after me and kicked me up the ass—you could say their shoes imprinted my ass—and then two or three of them together tried to kick my feet away from under me, push me, trip me. Ultimately, they’d succeed and down I’d drop. And still I always owed them booze on my shopping trips. One kid there was really big and strong, and somehow he’d arrived at the conclusion that I owed him some booze; I had no idea what had led him to that conclusion…maybe he just wanted booze. I adopted a strategy of not speaking at all because I soon realized that no matter what I said to them, it always went badly for me. I just remained silent, looked down at the floor and waited for them to do something else. Most of the time, some girl would come up and say:

“Oh, leave him alone. Stop teasing him!”

Usually they stopped as a result. But not once did an adult, a teacher or similar figure, get involved, though presumably they knew what was going on and saw it happening again and again.

Of all the boys who teased me, there was one I particularly feared. He was a brawler who was regularly involved in fights and who beat the shit out of people. He was the sort of kid who didn’t think twice about punching you. He was also a real weirdo. He was named Biggi, and people called him Brutal Biggi. And although he was not like the Morons, he was friends with them. The Morons didn’t exactly beat you up; they just messed about with you. If, for example, I left my bag lying about somewhere, tthey would take it, dunk it in the toilet, and flush it until it was soaked through. When I was walking home with a drenched bag, they would point at me and laugh. When I was walking home with a drenched bag, they would point at me and laugh.

“Hey ugly, why do you have a dripping wet bag?”

“He had to pee in it.”

“Are you so stupid that you piss in your schoolbag?”

The two boys who were on my case the most always hung about together and were called Black and White. They got their nicknames because they listened to ska: Madness and Specials. They were friends with Biggi. One time when they were tormenting me, I tried to push them away from me and shouted out, “Black and White—fuck and fight.” That pissed them off, and they told Biggi to punch me. He walked swiftly over to me and punched me straight in the face with a clenched fist. I had never been punched so powerfully; I was terrified, totally paralyzed by fear.

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