I remember growing up, driving down the road in Escalon, a developing housing community where ranches and almond groves were still dominant. Kenny Rogers was on the radio singing "The coward of the county," the words saying, "Promise me, son, not to do the things I've done. Walk away from trouble if you can. It won't mean you're weak if you turn the other cheek. I hope you're old enough to understand. Son, you don't have to fight to be a man." In that story, the son was known as the coward of the county. I can relate.I was a carefree feller. However, on a hot summer afternoon, the way I perceived myself had changed. From that day, a coward was the perception of me. I go back to the incide ...view middle of the document...
The driver punched the gas, his car jumped forward, parked crooked and leaped out of his car. He was skipping with anxiousness to get to my side, all the while saying, "Today ain't a good day, today ain't a good day...!"At that time, Ice Cube the Hip Hop Rapper had a hit song out, "Today was a good day." It tells a story about how everything went right for him that day, and how he didn't have to use his A-K. I understood his reference reversal.I looked back at Rusty, to see his big white eyes and the rest of him blended in the shadow, burrowed in the corner of the seat cushion, frozen from fear. I'm thinking, is anyone going to back me up? It seemed like slow motion. I turned to see Dustin huddled in the phone booth with his face down, shoulder turned and eye peeking over to see, commentating on the phone the play-by-play event. The two men headed over towards my car, passed by Dustin, freezing him up with a cold stare. Dustin with his face down, avoiding any contact, practicing the, If-you-don't-make-eye-contact-they-wont-see-you theory. Instantly one of the guys, the passenger, fell into my passenger seat and the other one, the driver, was trying to open my now locked door. With my window still down, he's skipping and prancing, pacing and saying, "Today ain't a good day. C'mon get out and fight." I was afraid. The man wanting to fight was approximately 5'6", baldhead with a detention facility physique. His friend was maybe 5'10" to 6' short hair, long face and an "I just picked my friend up from the pen personality."As I turned my eyes and rolled my head, from looking at his friend in my passenger seat, over the bald guy shadow boxing outside my door, a burst of white blinded my eyes, like the road to Damascus story. Temporarily blinded, as my sight fizzled back and had come to, a heated aching flared up in my nose. I had realized, he jabbed me. Though my body was wobbly like Jell-O and limbs like wet noodles, my mouth immediately started talking at a hundred miles an hour, like a Spanish-speaking housewife gossiping on the telephone. I was repeatedly asking him in every millionth way, demanding of him, "Why did you hit me!" Another me came out. I didn't want to fight; I didn't want any trouble. I was bouncing around in my car, without moving any part of my body but my neck. Looking at his friend leaning next to me and switching back to him, outside of my car."Why'd you hit me!"The shave headed guy looked shocked, stopped hopping around and th...
