What goes around...
When I was in primary school, I was big for my age. Being a child and being bigger than everyone else, I exerted my dominance by picking on the smallest, weakest kid in our year. Ben his name was. Not a day would go by where I wouldn't make him cry and, more often than not, leave him with a new and interesting bruise. I made his school life pretty much hell for about three years or so until we left primary school and went to different secondary school.

Fast forward two years and Ben moved school to where I was going. Only now the tables had turned. In the year or so that we hadn't seen each other, he had grown about a foot and I hadn't. He was now MUCH bigger than I was. Not a day would go by where he wouldn't give me a new and interesting bruise. He pretty much made my school life a hell for three years or so until we left secondary school.

Fast forward about five years, I'm stood in a pub with a couple of lads from the gym I kickboxed out of and who should walk in? Ben! For years, I'd harboured rage about the misery he'd made my life. It was basically why I had taken up kickboxing - not only to get revenge but also so it never happened to me again. I'd always thought about what I'd do when I saw him next and it almost always ended with me being stood on his neck.

And here he was in front of me.

I ended up buying him a pint, we chatted about what we were doing with our lives for a bit and went our seperate ways. I still see him sometimes when I go back to Liverpool.
(ScousersPet, Fri 15 May 2009, 10:24, Reply)