:: So It Is Written... ::

:: Monday, May 02, 2005 ::

 

Something significant happened to me last night. I got beat up. I got jumped by one of my neighbors who was high and drunk at the time. It's a really long story, so I'll try to sum it up. I came home around 2am, and my neighbors were throwing a party, and there was pot and beer, and naturally, a neighbor pissing on my porch. this isn't the first time this has happened, and so I got mad and started yelling at the guy. Everyone was yelling at me, too, and I started to head to my apartment, when one of the guys right by my door threatened me and Deedee. Said if deedee called the cops, then I'd get "ass whoopin' of [my] life." I turned and looked at him, and he used the opportunity to start throwing punches. I blocked the right, but the left caught me on the side of the head, and I got knocked back into my apartment. The guy came into my apartment, knocked me over my couch, through my speaker stand, into the dining room table, and on the floor. He ran around the overturned couch and started wailing on me. I blocked several punches, but about six good ones landed on my nose, mouth, head, etc... He finally got tired of hitting me, and got up and went outside to the roaring cheers of the crowd of people congratulating him. Deedee slamed the door shut before I could get up, and we called the cops.

The guy's name was Eric Pelletier or Eric Pelleter, btw. He was not arrested, and went home fine that night. The cops wouldn't arrest him because "the jail is full, and if we arrest him, we'd have to take him to another county, and since he'd be out in the morning anyway, there's no point." I digress.

Everyone I've talked to has said the same thing:
them: "you only got hit once, right?"
me: "nope, many times."
them: "there must have been a bunch of them."
me: "nope, just one."
them: "he must have been HUGE!"
me: "nope, he was a skinny runt."
them: "man, you must have torn him up," or "I'd hate to see your knuckles right now," or "he's lucky you didn't kill him."
me: "actually, I never got to throw a single punch."

I got beat up by a little punk. 10 years... Ten years of martial arts, and what did I get? not a single swing. Sure, I blocked his first punch, and only about six of his dozen or 20 punches hit. In the end, I couldn't do anything. I let a strange, little man threaten my wife, come into my house, and beat me like the rolly-polly fat kid I used to be. I haven't had such a shock to my self-esteem since 8th grade. Everyone's reactions just confirms what I've been thinking. This should never have happened. I feel so....

:: posted by Tmber :: 2:29 AM ::