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S. J. Beres

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Member Since: Mar, 2003

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Blogs by S. J. Beres

Parental Advice
1/8/2005 5:27:43 AM


"Stand up to a bully or you will spend the rest of your life running away (without lunch money)."

Dad got this one right, maybe. When I was in Junior High, I played a Mellophone (right-handed French Horn) in the school orchestra, which, I suppose, made me a 'geek' (this was in the era before computers). I had to haul the damn thing several blocks every school day, back and forth to home. My itinerary included a mountain pass.

One fine afternoon I had just crossed the busy street in front of the school, on my way home, when I heard a shout from behind me. Turning, I saw a 'go-for' for a school bully crossing behind me. He informed me that Lonnigan (on the other side of the street) wished to talk with me. I saw him standing there, grinning his insolent grin, probably drooling in contemplation of the harm he would wreak upon me for whatever reason.

Although I was a peaceable fellow, I took umbrage at this command. Something snapped inside me and, hearing my father's words in my mind, decided to nip this in the bud. I sat my instrument down, crossed my arms over my chest and told the minion, "that if Lonnigan wanted to talk to me he could, by God, come over here to do it!" While the gofer crossed to relay my message I tried very hard not to pee my pants.

Upon hearing my response Lonnigan glared at me, flipped the bird, and stalked off. I never had any trouble from him again. Way to go, Dad!

However, a friend of mine, Bill, did. At about the same time in history, Lonnigan decided to cut into the snack bar line in front of Bill, a tall, thin, A+ scholar who wore thick coke-bottle glasses. This happened ten feet in front of me, so I can vouch for its authenticity.

An argument insued, ended by a round-house right from Bill that put Lonnigan down for the count (this was not a good year for Lonnigan). As I and the hushed crowd watched, Bill looked in shock at his right fist, then at the comotose Lonnigan, then back to his fist. An odd grin stretched across his face.

In insuing weeks Bill's usual hunched-over eyes-down walk changed into a swagger and his grades started slipping. He was absent a lot, and there were rumours that he went often to a nearby town to engage in fisticuffs. His new-found power had changed him into the very thing he had despised.

That's the trouble with advice and probably why it comes without a warranty.


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More Blogs by S. J. Beres
• Action/Adventure . . . Romance? - Thursday, October 12, 2006
• AIR SHOW - Tuesday, October 4, 2005
• I Dare Call It Treason - Saturday, January 29, 2005
• Hyper Transient Thought Disorder - Tuesday, January 18, 2005
• Parental Advice - Monday, January 17, 2005
• The Money Pimps - Wednesday, January 12, 2005
•  Parental Advice - Saturday, January 8, 2005  

• Parental Advice - Saturday, January 8, 2005
• Poetic Justice - Wednesday, January 5, 2005