He who laughs last

i was brought up in a small coastal town in kent and was a teenager during the seventies there. it was a very violent time and place, more violent even, than my time in the army. there wasn’t a single day when someone didn’t get beaten up. sometimes i got beat up and sometimes i beat someone up. sometimes both in one day. it was how things were: the hard guys got the girls, and the weedy ones didn’t. it was a culture driven by hormones, by violence and by pussy.

the other day i was down there, when a guy called clive approached me in a pub. he recognised me after nearly 40 years, and he wanted to apologise for having bullied me at school. i remembered instantly how he had once dragged me behind some shops and kicked me to the floor and carried on kicking until i vomited with pain. i remember the pleasure he got from it. i remember how he’d made my life hell for a whole summer. Β he grew up with two drunken parents, and every day, at home, he witnessed and experienced violence. he saw his mum punched in the face. he got worse himself.

there was never any violence in my home. it was a peaceful place. once, my granddad slapped me across the face with a rolled up porn mag he had found, hidden, in my room. i was 5 inches taller than him at the time and 15. he was in his sixties. it stung for a few seconds and left a mark for a few minutes. it was nothing.

i got my own back on clive by pretending that i didn’t recall him. he’d spent serious chunks of his adult life regretting things he’d done as a child. all he wanted was a chance at redemption. it would have been so easy to forgive him but so much more rewarding to have him think that i didn’t even remember him.

20 responses

  1. What a lovely thing it is to peek into your mind again by reading your words Mr Mew. xo, Jayne

    14.02.11 at 03.30

    • your post didn’t come in my reader though. I saw you posted by getting the email. Anyway – glad I got it.

      14.02.11 at 03.31

      • thank you my darling, it was a pleasure to share again πŸ™‚

        14.02.11 at 11.56

  2. /squee! Good to see you.

    My soft-hearted self wishes you’d let him have that forgiveness…but I have no doubt he apologized for himself not you.

    14.02.10 at 22.17

    • i think you hit the nail right on the head – thanks πŸ™‚

      14.02.11 at 11.56

  3. I hope he found forgiveness anyhow, god knows we could all use some. Welcome back, Kyle.

    14.02.10 at 21.26

    • i hope he didn’t but thanks for your wonderfully positive thinking – i love ya mate πŸ™‚

      14.02.11 at 11.58

      • Back at you, Kyle. Joint isn’t the same without you.

        14.02.13 at 07.56

  4. Do I love the description in the first paragraph! And the porn magazine — perfect! Good piece.

    I’ll bet that apology was more for him than you — maybe he was going about trying to turn his karma around — who the hell knows.

    14.02.10 at 11.31

    • haha – and that was the tasty bit

      14.02.10 at 12.40

      • Yeah — and he’ll get NO karmic satisfaction! You make me wonder what my response would be to someone apologizing to me about something they did to me in the past. I think I might say to them, that it’s about moving forward. Lingering to long in that area might make me kinda stabby — haha!

        14.02.10 at 13.20

    • and who the hell cares? thanks sandy, always love your comments πŸ™‚

      14.02.11 at 11.57

  5. so good to see your mind splashed on the page again…and you are so right !
    btw…did gramps take the mag? πŸ˜‰

    14.02.10 at 09.55

    • haha and thanks – i don’t remember what happened to that issue of playboy – i did learn to hide them better tho lol

      14.02.10 at 10.04

      • and I bet he learned to hunt for them better! lol

        14.02.10 at 10.05

  6. Yes, much more rewarding and a very nice knitting up here dude.

    14.02.10 at 09.53

    • it could very easily gone the other way lol – just glad i had the composure at the right time “sorry mate? have you got me confused with someone else?” πŸ™‚

      14.02.10 at 09.56


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