My brutal ass kicking part two
I make it to my uncle's house at the same time as Bob. I'm shirtless, covered in blood, my face a ruin. I collapse on the couch, nauseous from a concussion I didn't know I had. I'm not exactly unconcious, but I was kind of out of it. Bob tells my uncle what went on, and barefoot, my uncle sprints down the street and tackles the guy who was holding my shirt, staying at the scene of the attack like a moron. The other guy runs off. My uncle literally drags my attacker by the hair back to his house.
My uncle is on defferred adjudication for DWI and being in a fight. If he fucks up his probation he goes straight to jail. This fact probably kept my attacker from driving around his wheelchair by blowing through a straw for the rest of his life. He throws him down on his front steps and says "Okay, asshole, if your ass comes one inch off of those steps, I'm going to hit you, and honest to God I'm not sure if I'll be able to stop once I get started." I've got to tell you, Murph standing shirtless, panting, and wild-eyed over you would make a believer out of you. My uncle tells Bob to get him the phone to call the cops.
By this time I stagger outside. I'm dizzy and sick from a concussion, still pumping blood out of my nose, my lips swollen and lacerated. My uncle gets a good look at me for the first time and blanches, makes a fist and walks up to my attacker. "You want me to fuck him up? Just say the word." I look so bad that Murph is willing to take a chance on his probation.
"No, just call the cops."
I occurs to us the Paul is still missing. The guy on the steps is practically in tears now and insists that he has no idea where he is.
It turns out that Paul has gotten turned around and ran off in the wrong direction to my uncle's house. He went on an adventure that rivals mine for trauma. The last thing he saw was me taking a savage blow to the face and blood going everywhere. He assumes that I'm in the process of being beaten to death. He was running through people's back yards, banging on their windows to call the police, and getting chased and bitten by dogs in people's yards. A kind soul (who was a giant body builder looking guy) finally called the police for Paul and drove him around the neighborhood until he saw us all out on my uncle's front steps.
We waited almost two hours for the cops to show up. My attacker (whose name was Brian Carr) did not raise his ass an inch off of the steps the whole time. He's just turned 19 and is freaking out because of his police record. As it turned out, all of his offenses were before he turned 18 so they all disappeared with his juvenile record when he turned 18. He plea bargained down to simple assault and paid a $500 fine. A few days later "somebody" dipped a hamburger into anti freeze and threw it over my uncle's fence, poisoning his dog.
Now, 27 years later, I wish I'd let Murph tee off on him.
Bob never talked to me again. The shame of running for help and leaving me to take such a savage ass kicking was too much for him. Although he still lives in Austin, he never went to the tenth or twentieth high school reunions. I still talk to Paul. He came down to visit and won almost $2,000 playing poker.