Vengeance is Mine (Kind of)

April 1987:

I wake up at a friend’s house. My roommate Tyrone and I had gotten into a fight the day before, or rather he attacked me when I was drunk and sick. I was clobbered beyond belief. So this morning I wake up and think since I’m sober now, I’ve gotta get payback. But I’ve got to be careful. Tyrone is built like a fat football player, he’s got hands like oven mitts, and my jaw feels like it’s about to fall off right now. I’m in extreme pain. If I take one more hit I’m going to die. But I can’t just let yesterday slide. What to do?

I decide I can’t risk a full fledged fight but I’ve got to bust him right in his grill. Jumping on somebody when they’re sick is not cool, it’s cowardly and inexcusable, and he has to pay in some manner. At 6:00 in the morning, against the advice of my friend and his mom, I take the bus back to the place Tyrone and I live on Northeast Street. Why two 17 year olds have their own place is irrelevant to today’s story.

I’m familiar with Tyrone’s routine so I know he’s already up when I get there. Using my key I enter the house as quietly as possible. I can hear motion in his room (two rooms away). My plan is to blast him in the face as hard as I can and then run. Yeah, I know it sounds like a bitch move but like I said I can’t afford to take even one more hit. I put my jacket on the kitchen table and keep the front door open.

The screen door is closed. Plan: HIT, grab jacket, push screen door open with left hand, and run like the wind. The plan is failsafe because he’s got to walk into the kitchen at some point to get out of the house and I’m standing by the kitchen entrance with my right fist already cocked to my ear level just waiting for him to walk in. I actually consider continuing the attack once the first punch lands (and how can it not?) but decide against it on the off chance he recovers enough to counterattack and like i said I can’t take a punch right now. I stand with my fist cocked back and wait.

In the other room (Tyrone tells me later on) he’s already heard me come in the house. He’s going through his morning routine feeling bad about what happened the day before. He’s waiting for me to come in at which point he’s planning to apologize about the previous day. Long minutes go by and he hears nothing else but he knows I haven’t left because he hasn’t heard the doors. After some time he moves toward the kitchen as he has to leave for school.

It’s been about 15 minutes. My arms is tired from having it cocked back. I’ve had to lower it down and shake it a few times. Finally I hear movement towards the kitchen. It’s show time!

Tyrone approaches the kitchen and pops a stick of gum in his mouth. He wants his breath fresh when he tries to mack on the ladies. He steps into the kitchen and stops, startled to see me right in front of him to his left. He turns and sees a fist. SSHHHHHHHHHHHH CRACK!!! (star)

Direct hit! Tyrone staggers back stunned and I see I have time for another hit. Hesitantly I raise my left hand and he instinctively shudders throwing up his hands. Fuck this I screwed up the timing. I grab my jacket and run out of the house. He runs a few steps after me but stops remembering he can’t catch me cuz he’s fat.



I keep running. My jaw still hurts but now I’m in better spirits.

I later learned that I popped the gum right out of Tyrone’s mouth and he looked for it afterwards he was mysteriously unable to find it. It is a riddle that’s never been solved and probably never will be.

The end.

24 Responses to “Vengeance is Mine (Kind of)”

  1. HMT says:

    punching friends in the face is fun. Thats the whole reason I ever took up martial arts – only I enjoy kicking them in the face even more..

    that was an 8 on the pussy scale mex… way to make us proud.

  2. Mexigogue says:

    HAHAHA!! Well jumping on a dude when he’s sick (in bed at the time) was a 10 on a bitch scale. So I’m still ahead.

  3. HMT says:

    Totally..I agree that is pussy.

    what kind of ‘sick’ are we talkin about here? Like Magic Johnson sick, or my tummy hurts sick?

  4. Mexigogue says:

    At that point in my life I had only drank about 4 times (beer each time). This time my goal was to get rip roaring drunk. I got a fifth of Jack Daniels (first time liquor for me) and started drinking it on an empty stomach at about 1:30 a.m. Didn’t realize what I was doing, next thing I dig the sun is up and I see myself violently vomiting. There’s only a third of that fifth left. I thought I was gonna die.

  5. I remember when I kicked Tyrone’s a$$ back in ’88 on Mexi’s front porch. That fat little man took a beat down that day. I still remember the smashing him with chair and the sparks coming off the bricks when the metal chair brushed up against it coming down on his head….I think everybody has kicked Tyrone’s A$$ at least once….Why did you run from him he is a pussy

  6. Mexigogue says:

    Like I said I ran because my jaw felt like it was about to fall off. If I was 100% I would have continued the right.

    Yeah, UNLV whooped his ass. Turns out he’s really strong but he has absolutely zero boxing skills. UNLV kept popping him from the outside. It was pathetic to watch.

  7. Mexigogue says:

    By the way it wasn’t a cowardly run. It was a very manly and cool run.

    If anyone asks, I wasn’t running from a fight, I was running to another fight!

  8. HMT says:

    fuck, UNLV resorted to a foreign object – total didn’t care about getting disqualified.

    hey, but understand, sometimes you gotta bust out the steel chair to lay a beatin on someone.

  9. Mexigogue says:

    Tyrone threw some of my dishes at UNLV so it was even. I was like “NO!! NOT MY GLASSES!”

  10. HMT says:

    have you guys ever come off the top rope on someone?

    that’d be the shit. Like a double-axehandle from the staircase

  11. Mexigogue says:

    One time my mom clotheslined me when I was returning a kickoff. I got 15 yards awarded for the penalty but she got to point at me and then make the throat cutting motion.

  12. Phelps says:

    Dude, I’ve been all over the ring. I did the flying closeline thing, since I was too much of a wuss to do a frog-splash or something. The guy I was with (real professional wrestler) did a shooting-star moonsault on the guy he was working with that day. It kicked all kinds of ass.

    Here’s what I learned:
    * Giving a flying closeline is much easier than taking one (it didn’t hurt but I was told it looked like shit because my timing sucked)
    * That top rope is REALLY high when you are standing on it
    * Sharpshooters hurt like microwaved fuck when they lean on you
    * Irish whips into the turnbuckle shock the hell out of you when you hit, but they don’t really hurt that much
    * Those ropes are STIFF
    * Taking a stiff punch or a steel chair isn’t that big a deal

  13. ONE ANGRY MAN says:

    Man, I have been laughing since I started reading this blog!

  14. rae says:

    So I guess you lost some weight then?

  15. rae says:

    Unless by “ran” you mean TROT.

  16. HMT says:

    …wait for it…


  17. Mexigogue says:

    You wanna insult me Rae put it somewhere where no one will read it. Like your blog.

  18. HMT says:

    ULTIMATE DISS! this is better than a Jermaine Dupree roast on BET.

    anynuts, Phelpsie, you’re a veteran of the squared circle? where does this story end?

    taxi for sure.

  19. Jenn says:

    HAHAAH!! Another great story and even better comments on the blog de Mexi.

    The weirdest weapon I’ve used was a rollerskate. It was one of those old, heavy, tan ones. Straight to the abs. Knocked his air out. Then finished rolling with his sister. I was scared, but I didn’t run.

  20. Phelps says:

    I didn’t actually perform. I was hanging out with a friend who decided to become a pro-wrestler, and in between working the indie scene around here, him and some other no-names decided to promote thier own backyard event. They borrowed a ring, and they let me and some other guys in for free as long as we helped set up the ring.

    I had already horsed around with him some (I knew how to take a hit from a fist or chair, mainly — we had wrecked all eight folding chairs at one friend’s house) and since we had the ring set up quick, and no one was there, he offered to show me some things in the ring. We hit each other a few times (had to save the chairs, so none of that), traded some clotheslines, some forearm chops, some irish whips, and the one pair of flying clotheslines. I ran the ropes for a few minutes (hard hard work) and then I got out of the way so he could warm up with the guy he was going to be wrestling. That was when they pulled out the good shit, like the moonsault.

    I had already tasted sharpshooter in the living room floor. So now I know lots of real grapling moves from that which will put some serious hurt on you, like figure 4s, sharpshooters, hammer locks, arm bars, etc. I don’t think I could actually get one on someone who wasn’t either letting me or otherwise uncapacitated, but hey, if I get it locked in, you’re screwed.

  21. rae says:

    I’m only tree and a half years old!

  22. Rae's Mom says:

    Mexi-Don’t make me come all the way from Okemos to your hood to kick your little ass!!

    Run Forest Run!!