The perennial stark guest of fictional personages that emulate people that were actually once alive. A giant of a man extremely powerful and impossibly large. Almost up to the limit of what people in general think is humanly possible. Someone with a temper but also intense pride. An another who was his rival. The two were always on the edge of fighting making nearby bystanders very wary of getting caught around them lest they get injured or worse in the heat of the former’s capacity for unchecked rage. People that he encountered generally played verbal softball with him so as not to inadvertently anger him. Quite frankly, the less they said the better chance for personal survival the would possess. But inevitably, peaked by this rival the contest would start soon on the basis of the bad blood accumulating between them. He would tear up the furniture and threaten others with mortal harm for the most minor infraction of his pride. Some fully aware of the consequence of such a meeting some neighbors had already evacuated the area going into hiding fearing the continuation of wrath that might ensue if he won the battle. Though no one would voice it out loud the smaller less powerful looking David vanquished the mean spirited Goliath making everyone who was still physically weaker to keep their joy to themselves. The nervous exhaustion of such an all out showdown had left him incapacitated which eliminated this possibility from occurring. So beaten down was the giant that some couldn’t help but feel a certain degree of empathy for the totality of his total defeat. His spirit had been permanently crushed by losing the title of the meanest and strongest bully around.
The final confrontation had been held in the yard of the house nest door. The owner had sent his wife to her mother and was going to sequester himself in his basement having turned off the lights and locked all the doors of his abode. The fight kicked off before he could get from his garage to the back door and he had to hide behind an overturned metal lounge chair. He knew that if the giant got a cross the fence that he would be toast. He might have been able to reach his own door but was stopped by a strange compulsion that told him it wouldn’t be right to abandon his neighbor if things would go against him. As mentioned, the severe beating that had been doled out had left the former bully with a degree of silent reserve that he had never before exhibited in the past. The man even demonstrating a degree of unaccustomed humility to the local neighborhood royalty, such as it was, in his midst. A displaced countess enjoying the pleasure of being the first. The giant seem to settle for the personality of a gracious loser quite opposite to that of his former self. Being very vocally apologetic for the violent deeds resulting from his past anger he soon became part of the group. Everyone glad that they no longer had to fear seeing anymore examples of spontaneous mayhem. Equally glad that the few having previously demonstrated mixed loyalties would not be hunted down and treated like a traitor.
He was in heavily occupied enemy territory in some place within South East Asia. Japanese soldiers were everywhere. The presence of the group scouting them was on the verge of being discovered by a garrison of the same traveling on sampan river boats. The few native militia members with the small contingent of British was barely adequate. Too often these ‘militias’ were neutral. Their loyalties bound to shift with to stronger of the two invaders. The native boys that we had were told to play dumb and stay away from any direct contact. But to no avail as the the Japs treated those that they encountered like escapees from the colonial rule and encouraged them to defect with gifts to find out what they could.
Someone had driven a school bus onto an ice rink and was attempting to perform tight circles causing the bus to start to slip around. The absurdity of this situation being that this very same event was taking place in deepest darkest Africa.
The old Jewish guy who owned the big warehouse had it filled top to bottom with aisle after aisle of junk. Stuff that had been picked up on the road or traded for in bulk. Too much of it appeared by virtue of its dilapidated condition that it wouldn’t travel much further than the scrapyard. Rows and rows of it piled high to the ceiling. Somehow the many had been conscripted along with a few other unfortunates to work for him. The man had a terrible temper and a bad habit of riding everyone without stopping. God knows, you didn’t dare cross him. The look of his constant beady eyed scowl telegraphing the message that you couldn’t tell what he was capable of in terms of unexpectedly pulling out a gun and shooting you. Not to mention that he was tied up with the wrong crowd. The sort that too often literally got away with murder. At least that was the backstory. The young guy made sure to butter him up as best as was possible to try to escape some small measure of verbal abuse. The guy playing a little game with him diverting his wrath by keeping him talking about trivial business matters. At the end of the day when the boss wanted to dive the man and another companion somewhere last minute at quitting time his battleaxe wife showed up. The old harpy was worse than he was with a shrill voice that over a short period of time could drive anyone insane. The companion talked to his fellow worker quipping, “Oh great, the old bastard is going to get all pissed off now and take it out on us!” “The shit will definitely hit the fan!”, the other man replied.
A little while later the two assistants were alone in the bosses’ automobile on a mission to get gas for the old S.O.B. One of them attempting to park out of the way of a gas station’s car wash exit. His partner getting out to use the restroom. The partner returned and standing on the far side beyond the rear view mirrors of it giving bum instructions. The other one attempting to park had to half back it out slowly to pull further over in order to get the car’s rear end out of the way from blocking exiting vehicles. The ‘traffic cop’ friend kept attempting to direct the driver while getting in the way preventing any positive progress. Two other guys from the station walked over and to the would be traffic cop companion and gave him a stern lecture. “Look!“, one of them spat out, “You got to let this guy back out of the other lane and let him proceed the fuck out of here!” Having been given the opportunity to finally pull aside without interference from his friend the exhausted driver went to the Car Wash’s men’s room. He was aghast when he opened the stall door to find the commode covered in shit. The man grabbed some paper towels from a dispenser to try to clean it off the best he could without choking from being sickened. “It’s no fun being a slave to someone else’s bad behavior!“, he said aloud, “But that is how this f’in life is.“