His name was Larry (I feel like the narrarator in ‘Fight Club’…). We were in 2nd grade (I think—details have been lost since the injury I sustained) at Tarrant City Elementary School. Larry was my best friend. Or a close friend…I recall having a crush on him. He always reminded me of Robert Palmer.
When I think of him, I always envision lil’ Larry all grown up (but he is the same age on the outside) surrounded by a big group of women who look alike with their hair cut off really short and slicked back. They are wearing red dresses and sporting guitars. Larry is wearing a suit, he is taller but still looks the same as he did in elementary school…then my visions include Robert Palmer taking Larry’s place…it is odd.
The memory I have isn’t one that is cruel, really. I recall Larry and I standing (I want to say it was in the classroom; perhaps before or after lunch) and chatting. He jokingly said something to me (I wish I remembered what he said) and I responded in a way that I assumed was also joking; I let my leg go back and hauled off and kicked him (yes, I kicked him in his “special place”).
Larry immediately cupped the area, groaned and said “ow” then he hit the ground. I think he may have even been crying. My eyes got big and I began apologizing. That is really all of the memory that has stuck with me.
To this very day, I am not one to joke about making a man hurt there. I did it that time simply because of seeing people do it on television as a joke. I thought it would be funny. *sigh* I want to find him and tell him how that particular incident has affected me for the rest of my life!
On my mind (again?) 