No revenge fantasies

old hippy

The summers in the mid to late 70s seemed to be bathed in sunshine. And they lasted forever. For a kid my age, it was bliss and pure joy. Sure, I was shy and had a funny accent. Mom had instilled some of her Americanisms in me and she also insisted I talked properly. So, I wasn't allowed associate with long haired boys who had "Dublin" accents. Which was kind of difficult in Dublin during the 1070s. I did have a lot of female friends because I liked their company. It wasn't exclusively girls I hung out with at school, of course. The lads were alright, too. The worst thing would happen is a dispute over Star Wars bubble gum cards or someone nicking your pencil sharpener.

Then the autumn came and the new all male school beckoned. My Uncle had gone there and he survived. It was thought to be the correct school for me, before secondary. The boys there were different, loud and rowdy. Using swear words and smoking. Within days I had acquired a number of new names "fairy", "posho" and "sissy". I wasn't Irish, apparently, because of my Mom. Why didn't I play rugby. Me not liking it wasn't good enough. Then the physical attacks began. The punching, kicking, hitting and spitting. Nearly every day, for four years. I think of that period now and wonder how I survived. I was brought to a pyschologist and diagnosed with depression. Me, a mere kid of single digit figures! The teachers all had their own quirks, as well. One had 6 rulers, another had 2 leather straps, one carried a wooden blackboard duster and one had a penchant for using his knuckles. Again, this went on for 4 years often for the slightest infraction. One time, I was whacked for having coughed in class.

It wasn't all bad. I had a few friends and a loving family who tried several times to remonstrate with teachers and bullies alike. All to my detriment, of course. My Uncle told me to hit back, he tried to get me to box. Not my thing, violence. Receiving or giving. By my third year there, we had the dubious pleasure of having the most notorious teacher in the school focus his attentions on us. He'd smoke in class and beat the living daylights out of you if you so much as dropped a pin. 6 rulers, a cane, whatever came to hand. My friend used to vomit every day before class, he was so scared. Teacher also liked to leer over some of the prettier boys. Or pat us on the thighs or backside. He once offered some of us private tuition, which, sensibly, my parents declined.

Eventually the nightmare ended. My lasting memory is of a classmate chewing a dairy milk until it had a pleasing runny consitency to it and then spitting it all over my face and hair.

Then I was out of there. And no revenge fantasies lasted for more than a few minutes. I wondered what became of the bullies and 6 rulers. Indeed, some years later I paid him a visit, while he was coming out of the school. I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of him and his reign of terror but I was faced with a wizened old man who barely remembered me. Instead, I just wished him well.

And my classmates? I briefly bumped into a few of them, some years later when they had "grown up" and were the young bucks about town, drinking and saying "roit" and "hoino" a lot. My American/posho accent was not as offensive as this, I think! They were still loud but now they had money to go with it and attitude. Good luck to them, I thought.

And that's the last time I saw them, just before the leaving cert all those years ago. They had changed a bit but not too much, since junior school.

Yes, the last time until this morning, on the tube. One guy staring at me. The guy who sat beside me in that school and made my life a misery for all that time. Bit of a jolt. After all this time.

"Do we know each other" he asked me.

"No, we don't. We never did." I said, getting off at my stop.

Ain't life strange like that?

Jimminy Mc Fukhead

old hippy wrote: »

"Do we know each other" he asked me.

"No, we don't. We never did." I said, getting off at my stop.

Ain't life strange like that?

You never have a Dairy Milk Chocolate to hand when you need one, do you.

partyatmygaff

old hippy wrote: »

Mom had instilled some of her Americanisms in me and she also insisted I talked properly. So, I wasn't allowed associate with long haired boys who had "Dublin" accents. Which was kind of difficult in Dublin during the 1070s.

Those damn Vikings with their long hair and ill manners.

SuperGrover

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children in any way they could
By pouring their derision upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psychopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives

Leftist

sounds like you bottled it.

9959

Nice story, well written.

I agree with you about the futility of revenge fantasies.

RossyG

SuperGrover wrote: »

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children in any way they could
By pouring their derision upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psychopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives

Great poem but it stops rhyming about halfway through.

Max Power

Pics or it never happend

Gran Hermano

Creative writing forum?

Lenin Skynard

SuperGrover wrote: »

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children in any way they could
By pouring their derision upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psychopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives

She’d go “Aon focal, da focal, two focal eile, And I not knowing no focal at all,


She’d go “Aon focal, da focal, two focal eile And I not knowing no focal at all...

BraziliaNZ

That was me, on the Victoria line. You little f*ggot.

9959

Gran Hermano wrote: »

Creative writing forum?

Feel free, there's nothing stopping you, three words and a question mark is hardly 'War and Peace', but it's a start!

Good luck to you.

Aphex Tim

SuperGrover wrote: »

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children in any way they could
By pouring their derision upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psychopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives

Mr Benevolent

OP needs to smoke more, not less.

Where To

The Italians were wrong.

The sweetest revenge is actually no revenge at all.

--Kaiser--

You sound like a mature individual. I'd have have broke his nose

Itwasntme.

Really nice story Old hippy. I enjoyed reading it. MOAR!!!

Oh and I agree with Kaiser although I personally would have been too scared to punch him, instead I would have given him a wedgie and legged it!

Guill

I am still waiting for the day that my school bully drops dead so I can piss on his grave. The sooner the low life scumbag does the better, the more painful the better too. No lie.

BraziliaNZ

Guill wrote: »

I am still waiting for the day that my school bully drops dead so I can piss on his grave. The sooner the low life scumbag does the better, the more painful the better too. No lie.

You need to let go. Maybe if you weren't such a little fairy you might have been left alone lol.

Gummy Panda

Where To wrote: »

The Italians were wrong.

The sweetest revenge is actually no revenge at all.

Lol no. Sweetest revenge is when you bludgeon them

"TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW YOU F**KING STUPID YUPPIE BASTARD!"

old hippy

partyatmygaff wrote: »

Those damn Vikings with their long hair and ill manners.

:D:D

CruelCoin

TLDR version please?

Where To

CruelCoin wrote: »

TLDR version please?

Two strangers meet on the train. One stranger doesn't headbutt the other stranger. They go their separate ways. The end.

Where To

Gummy Panda wrote: »

Lol no. Sweetest revenge is when you bludgeon them

"TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW YOU F**KING STUPID YUPPIE BASTARD!"

Na, the best revenge is completely ignoring the fact that they ever existed. Nothing a bully hates more than not getting any attention.

CruelCoin

Where To wrote: »

Two strangers meet on the train. One stranger doesn't headbutt the other stranger. They go their separate ways. The end.

Thanks.

That was ****ing riveting OP.

Wattle

Go to school reunions around the 20 year mark. It's a real eye opener. The boys you knew have not become men they've just become fatter boys.

old hippy

CruelCoin wrote: »

Thanks.

That was ****ing riveting OP.

I cordially invite you to recall the terror of your school days in a calm and dignified fashion, my dear chap

Hippies!

CruelCoin wrote: »

TLDR version please?

Just read it ffs. I vote to ban this "tldr" malarkey in the hope of keeping this sort of riff raff out of our supreme linguistic environment.

ahnowbrowncow

Hippies! wrote: »

Just read it ffs. I vote to ban this "tldr" malarkey in the hope of keeping this sort of riff raff out of our supreme linguistic environment.

tldr

Hippies!

ahnowbrowncow wrote: »

tldr

me angry tldr ban now

Madam_X

Some bit of revenge is fair enough at times. If there was no revenge/retribution/retaliation/justice, people would get away with all sorts of c*ntishness.

SparkySpitfire

Are people joking, or are they seriously not getting the pop culture references in this thread?

First Pink Floyd's "The Wall" lyrics, then the quote from "American Psycho".

SuperGrover

Hippies! wrote: »

Just read it ffs. I vote to ban this "tldr" malarkey in the hope of keeping this sort of riff raff out of our supreme linguistic environment.

There seems to be a significant number if people out there who are incapable of reading anything longer than a line or two.

Wonder how they'd cope with a book. Or a chapter. Or a page.

partyatmygaff

SuperGrover wrote: »

There seems to be a significant number if people out there who are incapable of reading anything longer than a line or two.

Wonder how they'd cope with a book. Or a chapter. Or a page.

I vote we censor "TL;DR" and have it automatically replaced with "too long; couldn't read".

Ava_e

Success is the best form of revenge.

Doc Ruby

Madam_X wrote: »

Some bit of revenge is fair enough at times. If there was no revenge/retribution/retaliation/justice, people would get away with all sorts of c*ntishness.

There's a bit of a difference between revenge and giving in to the hate, known to some as "being bitter". Good solid revenge brings closure and a sense of karmic balance to the world. Its a cathartic experience, which when judiciously applied heals and entertains in equal measure.

For example, some knacks robbed a quarter ton of coal out the back of my house before the christmas, never the wisest of moves when the robbee makes a hobby out of tracking small animals across miles of barren wilderness. It was straightforward to find the crowd involved as they didn't really make much of an effort to hide their handiwork, unfortunately the guards weren't much good on account of me not stencilling my name on each lump, but I did manage to get them evicted.

All in all I call that a win.

old hippy

SparkySpitfire wrote: »

Are people joking, or are they seriously not getting the pop culture references in this thread?

First Pink Floyd's "The Wall" lyrics, then the quote from "American Psycho".

Both of which I own but crikey, they must have seeped in subconciously. Can you quote them both, please - I've read it again & can't find them. Cheers

Geri Male

Old hippy

You snubbed the bully on the train. That's disappointing.

SparkySpitfire

old hippy wrote: »

Both of which I own but crikey, they must have seeped in subconciously. Can you quote them both, please - I've read it again & can't find them. Cheers

No bother

The Wall:

SuperGrover wrote: »

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children in any way they could
By pouring their derision upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psychopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives

American Psycho:

Gummy Panda wrote: »

"TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW YOU F**KING STUPID YUPPIE BASTARD!"

Sparklygirl

I have met a couple of bullies from my school days. There was no need for revenge as I am happy and life has been good to me. They on the other hand were unsuccessful and miserable. I don't think it is Karma as such, just that they were always heading that way and I wasn't.

irishgirl19

For about the first 3 sentences I was reading the OP in my head in Morgan freemans voice,then when you mentioned Dublin it was ruined.

dttq

old hippy wrote: »

The summers in the mid to late 70s seemed to be bathed in sunshine. And they lasted forever. For a kid my age, it was bliss and pure joy. Sure, I was shy and had a funny accent. Mom had instilled some of her Americanisms in me and she also insisted I talked properly. So, I wasn't allowed associate with long haired boys who had "Dublin" accents. Which was kind of difficult in Dublin during the 1070s. I did have a lot of female friends because I liked their company. It wasn't exclusively girls I hung out with at school, of course. The lads were alright, too. The worst thing would happen is a dispute over Star Wars bubble gum cards or someone nicking your pencil sharpener.

Then the autumn came and the new all male school beckoned. My Uncle had gone there and he survived. It was thought to be the correct school for me, before secondary. The boys there were different, loud and rowdy. Using swear words and smoking. Within days I had acquired a number of new names "fairy", "posho" and "sissy". I wasn't Irish, apparently, because of my Mom. Why didn't I play rugby. Me not liking it wasn't good enough. Then the physical attacks began. The punching, kicking, hitting and spitting. Nearly every day, for four years. I think of that period now and wonder how I survived. I was brought to a pyschologist and diagnosed with depression. Me, a mere kid of single digit figures! The teachers all had their own quirks, as well. One had 6 rulers, another had 2 leather straps, one carried a wooden blackboard duster and one had a penchant for using his knuckles. Again, this went on for 4 years often for the slightest infraction. One time, I was whacked for having coughed in class.

It wasn't all bad. I had a few friends and a loving family who tried several times to remonstrate with teachers and bullies alike. All to my detriment, of course. My Uncle told me to hit back, he tried to get me to box. Not my thing, violence. Receiving or giving. By my third year there, we had the dubious pleasure of having the most notorious teacher in the school focus his attentions on us. He'd smoke in class and beat the living daylights out of you if you so much as dropped a pin. 6 rulers, a cane, whatever came to hand. My friend used to vomit every day before class, he was so scared. Teacher also liked to leer over some of the prettier boys. Or pat us on the thighs or backside. He once offered some of us private tuition, which, sensibly, my parents declined.

Eventually the nightmare ended. My lasting memory is of a classmate chewing a dairy milk until it had a pleasing runny consitency to it and then spitting it all over my face and hair.

Then I was out of there. And no revenge fantasies lasted for more than a few minutes. I wondered what became of the bullies and 6 rulers. Indeed, some years later I paid him a visit, while he was coming out of the school. I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of him and his reign of terror but I was faced with a wizened old man who barely remembered me. Instead, I just wished him well.

And my classmates? I briefly bumped into a few of them, some years later when they had "grown up" and were the young bucks about town, drinking and saying "roit" and "hoino" a lot. My American/posho accent was not as offensive as this, I think! They were still loud but now they had money to go with it and attitude. Good luck to them, I thought.

And that's the last time I saw them, just before the leaving cert all those years ago. They had changed a bit but not too much, since junior school.

Yes, the last time until this morning, on the tube. One guy staring at me. The guy who sat beside me in that school and made my life a misery for all that time. Bit of a jolt. After all this time.

"Do we know each other" he asked me.

"No, we don't. We never did." I said, getting off at my stop.

Ain't life strange like that?

Nice post. Unfortunately in Ireland if you don't have either a "howya" accent or sound like a stage character out of D'Unbelievables (aka. Been able to talk and pronounce words properly) you can become an outcast. Ironic that you'd get stick for using Americanisms and having a slight American twang, when those criticising you would cause an elecution lessons teacher to pull their hair out.

Can yi nah blee'in spea-uk prop-ly yi blade'n yankuhh

old hippy

SparkySpitfire wrote: »

No bother

The Wall:


American Psycho:

Ah, right - not me, so! Other posters are welcome to bring in their own references, of course