The picture of the pug puppy on my page today instantly recalled a memory which I find amusing, especially since it makes me proud of the spunk I brought into this world. I was helping my mom with Senior Night Bingo at the local Legion; it's an annual fundraiser for the senior class of LaFargeville Central School, my old Alma mater, and of course all of the seniors were there to work as well. Though I don't recall the particulars, I think we were making pizza, a senior named Marty had said something to me that was meant to put me in my rightful place as a squat little pip-squeak. Well, I proceeded to run up one side of this kid and down the other, he had no idea what hit him and I ended my verbal beratement with 'When you were young, you were so pitiful and ugly that your mom had to tie a bone around your neck to get the damn dog to play with you!' He stood there, in shocked-awe, and openly bowed to his aggressor; waving the white pizza of surrender, admitting defeat. I was in seventh grade and I had just bested the most popular and attractive senior in our little world at LCS, effectively securing my position as one of the most venerated students in school, and certainly no one to entice into battle.
Mom was so proud, I'm pretty sure I saw tears in her eyes.
I've always been quick with a razor sharp come back, and I had the Balls and inherent knack for deploying my lexical assaults at precisely the time to achieve maximum emotional devastation. This defense mechanism began in grade school when I decided to collect an arsenal of verbal abuses in the form of an 'Insult Book,' a notebook in which I kept every 'Your Momma' and 'You're so Ugly/Stupid' insults I knew or could originate. As the the shortest and fatest girl at school, I came to believe such precautions necessary. Better still, I was the most intelligent; my Book ensured that I would surely surmount any kid that tried to emotionally maim me, and that I would succeed in having the last word. Most of the time, however, I enjoyed the first word as I would preemptively strike to deter the others from ever saying anything about my weight. This is the grade school equivalent of killing someone at random, putting their head on a spike, then parading through the town to let everyone know that you are not to be fucked with; oh dear, I was quite the little terror.
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