Chris Christie is a bully.
He said if he were President, he would ban Hillary Clinton from coming within ten miles of the white house.
As I watched Christie deliver his red-faced, cocky diatribe, I recalled my first experience with a bully.
I was in second grade. His name was Fatso, not nice, but it’s what he answered to. I was too afraid of him to call him anything. Fatso lived four blocks from my house and that wasn’t nearly far enough.
His family satisfied every category of derogatory stereotypes attributed to southern whites. They were dirty, scary and intimidating. And, there were enough of them to intimidate several generations of second graders.
Fatso’s education consisted of time spent in the principal’s office. He’d been there so long, that he came close to qualifying for the military.
His greatest pleasure was stealing my friend Butch’s bike. We would launch a stealth attack and get it back. The only problem with retaliation was I went to school with Fatso. Butch went to the catholic school leaving me to deal with the bully by myself.
I dreaded the walk home with Fatso on my heels and his menacing threats. Dad told me if I would stand up to Fatso just once, he would leave me alone. I had grave reservations about this tactic. I was the skinniest kid in the class; how could I strike a blow against this behemoth.
Given the temperament and IQ of my opponent, I doubted a verbal attack would be effective. Brushing aside visions of my body, lying lifeless in the street, I loaded my lunch pail with rocks. I planned to do serious damage to Fatso.
I was almost home when Fatso appeared from nowhere and blocked my path. I raised my lunch pail and landed a hard knock to his head.
Dad was right. Fatso loped off yelling for his Mama, and I got an adrenaline buzz all the way to my house. Fatso never bothered me again.
After serving time in prison, Fatso pumped gas at the local Texaco station. Mama loved him because he always wiped the windshield without being asked.
I wonder what Chris Christie was like in second grade. I don’t know why, but every time I see him, I remember Fatso.