Seeing these comments from the peanut gallery brought to mind an interesting
memory from middle school -- eighth grade I believe.

It was a schoolyard scrap between two of the heavyweight contenders -- one
of many matches and rematches in a long line of slugfests among the
slugerati of middle school.

As usual, the fisticuffs attracted a mighty crowd, and as usual the scrawny
nerds were in the front row, cheering and screaming and waving their little
fists. Keeping the crowd back with arms outstretched behind them -- and at
the same time forming a kind of ring for the fighters -- were some of the
other school sluggers.

It was a spirited match that ended pretty much a draw, with both
combatatants slugged out and panting for air. Just as the action was winding
down into general groping and grasping, one of the little hamsters in the
front, eyes glazed over with blood lust, screamed out some kind of comment
to the effect of, "Come on, let's go. You call this a fight?"

Well that turned all eyes on the little rodent, who quickly sprouted a big
"Oops" bubble above his head. One of the big kids who was on crowd control
quickly administered a cuff upside the head, along with some words of
remonstration, to the effect of "who the heck asked you?" -- and then the
mob dived in.

The next instant our little rodent was being tossed around by the angry mob
like an unfortuante rag doll. A monster wedgie was the crowning indignity as
I recall.

Wow. I hadn't thought of that story in years. Thanks to Rich, Lou, and
Hemingway for sparking that memory.

I sometimes try to picture how some of these kids from middle school might
have grown up, trying to picture the kind of people they have become later
in life, how they might behave in certain situations.

I think I have a pretty good picture of what that unfortunate little
spectator would be doing right about now.

Regards,

Gordon.




"Lou" wrote in message
oups.com...
Can I administer the meds?