Temper, Temper

When my family lived on North 6 1/2 Street in Terre Haute, my best friend was a kid named Chris who lived across the alley. Me and Chris usually got along, but we fought a lot, too. Whenever I won, Chris would run home to his mom crying. She would then tell on me to my mom and I'd get some lecture about how fighting was bad. My temper really bothered my mom. She didn't want a likes to fight son. She wanted a sweet kid who everyone liked. I wanted to be both. One day, me, Chris, Renee, and a few other neighborhood kids were playing in the front yard with a sprinkler. Someone removed the hose from the sprinkler and started spraying. We took turns chasing each other around and spraying one another. At some point, Chris got me in the eyes and that really made me mad. So I picked up the garden hose gun which was detached and laying on the ground nearby and threw it at his head. It hit him squarely on top of the head and he ran home to cry to his mom. They returned together with a ridiculous looking Band Aid on the top of his head clinging loosely to his hair. She was pretty upset and told my mom what had happened and it was lecture time again. She took me aside and told me if I continued fighting, I'd hurt someone really bad and have to go to prison. Instantly, I pictured myself in the pen with a bald head, lots of tattoos, and smoking cigarettes. This was not the future I wanted, so I agreed to stop getting in fights. She made me promise to apologize to Chris. The next day, I walked up to him and he was holding with something behind his back. As I started to apologize, he threw a rock that hit me in the head and then ran away like a coward. Well, so much for apologizing. Now it's time to throw down again.



I'd just like to point out I'm 34 now and have never served time in jail or prison.