We hear it all the time within the police and military ranks, but how about the girl who stood up to a bear that had climbed her back yard wall and was surely looking for food? In the video I saw (I’m sure millions have seen it by now) she reacted without thinking of her own safety. She beat the bear back and protected her little Yorkshire Terrier that was surely destined to be a meal for the bear and her offspring.
If you are a dog/animal lover, you get it.
My short list of people I would sacrifice my own life to save theirs:
My wife.
My family.
My dogs.
That’s pretty much it, but I don’t want to jinx it.
After all, I have received two ass-whippings for protecting others and either of those two assholes, well, if you will hit a woman in the face, you would most likely shoot some idiot that jumps in your face to protect her.
Here is Pt. 1 of the story The Freak:
The very closest I came to departing this planet early after age three was when I was nineteen and living in Tucson near the U of A. I would eventually be a badass pool player, but I wasn’t there yet. I was, however, pretty buff and pretty much fearless of anything. Add to that some Miller High Life and VO whiskey, and it was a recipe for disaster.
My girlfriend and I went to this little pool bar on North Stone Street and we laid out our stuff in a booth.
We killed the pitcher and shots and ordered another, and another, and another.
You get the picture.
So we are there for about three hours and as you can imagine, pretty buzzed by this time.
I noticed there was this little Mexican kid that had taken a single table and was watching us shoot pool.
I had to get very close to him when I was taking a shot and he smelled terribly. His clothes were soiled and worn through, his feet, in worn Birkenstock sandals, were literally blackened with God-knows-what, and his breath I equate to mixing a large tumbler with every single liquor in your house, drinking down as much as you can in one gulp, vomit and then…
That smell.
And I speak from experience on that one, unfortunately.
So we are shooting pool and I come to a shot very close to this punk and I have to ask him to move.
He just looked at me. So one Mexican fucking with another Mexican was about to explode.
To my credit, I just stayed calm and said “meet me in the bathroom pendejo”.
I had just witnessed my brother drop the hammer on this younger, bigger, and stronger dude in a bar by using the old go-out-the-door-first-trick. He called Big ‘Mando, (this young bull who was fucking with him) outside, went out the door first, let the door close and laid him out flat when he came through the door.
So, this douchebag said some remark about my girlfriend and I was done with him.
Enough.
I walked up to him and indicated him to follow me into the bathroom where I planned to use the old go-out-the-door-first-trick.
As he came through the door behind me, my fist was raised to bring down the thunder.
He shoved a .38 in my nose and said what do you want, puto?
My balls shrunk to the size of green peppercorns, so I replied, “nothing sir.”
I grabbed my girlfriend and we split. I was vowing to return to exact my revenge, but that was just bullshit macho Mexican talk.
The truth is I was way out of my league.
Stay well.
Mark's Playhouse 