Schoolyard Stories

The young boy went home, slowly walking, wiping off his bleeding nose from time to time. When he entered the kitchen, his dad was sitting at the table studying the newspaper.

"What's up, son? What happened?"

"They beat me again."

"Who? The bullies?"

"Yes, dad, they did it again. They used batons and brass knuckles. Dad, I asked you before, and I know your answer already, but can you please allow me to carry at least something I could defense myself?"

The father laid the newspaper by side and leaned towards.

"Son, let me explain again my stance toward that topic. If I allow you to carry a similar weapon for yourself, if I provide you with it, we are sticking in the same game they are playing, understand that? We are not like them. And what if they overwhelm you, getting into possession of your self defense weapon? Then they are better armed than before, you can even defend yourself again with bare hands, it's a lose-lose game."

The son sighted.

"But dad, this has to stop, they are even attacking and beating other children blaming me for that. Do I not have the right to fight back?"

"Yes, son," the father replied. "But not with arming up to weaponry equality. Remind, we are better than the others, and in case we have to suffer until we finally crow over our counterparts."

"Dad, I have to suffer under those circumstances, not you," the boy began to yell. "I'm the one beaten up and aspersed. You are only speaking from time to time with their parents and explaining me afterwards that the situation among the adults is too complicated to solve in short terms."

A thick red drop of blood smacked on the kitchen floor. His dad stood up from the chair, eyes wandering around for some tissues.

"Shh, son, no need to get aloud, her, it's ok."

He reached his son a hankie.

"Hey, it's for me also not easy, that situation, you know? But I have my principles and they have to be strictly not to drop down on their level, understand? As I said: we are better than them."

The son focussed the red blood dot on the floor.

"So this means I have to become beaten up until they realize that they are doing wrong? Is that what you want to tell me?"

"Well," the father smiled shyly. "so seen yes, you described the best case scenario from the common development. We have to convince them that they are acting wrong offering them the chance of getting right. Then we could enter the stage of serious negotiations about a coexistence without the threat of getting attacked or beaten. That's what we are doing."

"Dream on," the son mumbled heading to the bath room.