Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Chinaman Knockout by Lauren M. Ming (best memoirs of all time TXT) 📖
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else.” He walked off with an arrogant gait.
I almost crapped my pants. How could I have forgotten that Johnny was Tony’s older brother? Johnny’s 6’2” muscular body loomed over my 5’10” skinny figure. He was a Golden Gloves fighter. He wasn’t a champ, but he had to be somewhat good to get the “G.G.”-- and he had years of boxing experience. Jim and I both knew the after school meeting in the boy’s locker room wasn’t going to be a friendly talk. Oh, how I hated those Italians.
“Ill pray for you, man,” Jim said with a sigh.
Four
The last two periods went by slowly, but it wasn’t slow enough. Three o’clock rolled around and I still didn’t have a plan. There wasn’t enough time to run to Ben Franklin High and get Robert to come protect me. Plus, I don’t even know how effective Robert would be, considering Johnny was a “G.G.” and all. I swallowed hard and made my way to the boys’ locker room.
On my way over I saw Paula and Mayra flash me two gorgeous smiles. I paused for a moment and took the beauty in—they might be the last women two I’d see in this lifetime. In the distance I saw Egbert playing on the field with our family friend, Ernie, totally oblivious to the current situation. “Too bad he’ll have no one to protect him from bullies when I’m gone,” I thought to myself.
Upon my arrival I was greeted by about 15 unfriendly white faces. Some were greasy and had missing teeth and odd shaped noses, but they were generally clean and pretty-boy status.
“He’s waiting for you,” said Nicholai, a hefty kid in the sixth grade. His name was funny; I think he was Greek or something. And then he kicked me in a place where no man should be kicked. I was firmly escorted into the bathroom after that.
Johnny was picking his teeth when I was dragged in. He looked really nice, I guess he had just combed and slicked his hair. I thought, “Johnny must be having a good day because he’s all spiffed up. If I compliment his hair he’ll just give me a little talk and let me be on my way. There’s nothing to worry about.” Following a few seconds of these ridiculous thoughts, I realized that I was out of my mind. I was an idiot, a dreamer-- Golden Gloves Johnny was here to kill me.
“You ready, Chinaman?” I recognized the voice of my classmate Tom, one of Johnny’s followers. I had thought Johnny was going to be the only one there to relish in my pain. Turns out, he had brought in a few of his friends to share the pleasurable experience with. He left the rest of them outside to watch the door.
I was about to respond when I received another blow to the unmentionables. It hurt like Hell times four. I fell to the ground, a little disoriented. Johnny picked me up off the ground.
“Get up, you fruit. Can you understand me? Or do I need to speak-o ya’lls retard-o language. Come on, Ching-chong-ding-a-ling-ling-ling.” He laughed at his own joke. I followed his directions like a dog follows its master’s orders. Johnny was the boxer, the bathroom was his ring, and I was the victim.
Johnny started bouncing around and we started circling. I was very careful with my footing and circled in a crouched position, hands in a fighting position covering my face.
“Who you think you are, boy, Bruce Lee?” He jumped in the air and kicked with an enthusiastic “Hi-Yah!” I, in fact, had zero experience in karate or any other self-defense techniques.
I took a few blows to the head, eight times to the right side of my face (he was a lefty) and five to the left to be exact. He pulled my hair a few times, mainly to get a better shot at my jaw. Three times to the stomach, four to the chest. Each time I fell Johnny was kind enough to let me get up before striking again. Meanwhile, the spectators enjoyed the show.
Johnny and I made our way down the locker aisles. I looked around desperately for help. Maybe there was someone still there. Was I still crazy? No one in the right mind would challenge Johnny, especially for a stupid Chinaman like me. For not paying attention I got another knee to the stomach. I fell to my knees.
“You’re nothin’, you piece of yellow trash! You and your kind can get out of here. Ya'll don’t belong.” I heard a few “amens” among his pals. He backed up a little so that I could stand up again.
Still on my knees I quikly scanned my immediate surroundings. Unfortunately, there were no guns, knives, or other lethal objects within reach on the cold, cement floor. All I saw was a dirty towel, the center benches, an apple core and a paper bag. The only things I could use were the center benches. The center benches! It was genius. The benches separated the two sides to each locker aisle and were each about ten feet in length.
I crawled over to where I thought the best positioning would be. I wasn’t going to take another painful hit without a fight.
“Hey, where do you think you're going, you cockroach?” he yelled as he pulled my hair to make me stand up.
“Nowhere, you jerk!” I rushed at Johnny and threw myself into him. The unexpected blow surprised him and the force of my whole body caused him to fall backward over the bench. Without hesitation I jumped on top of him and began throwing punches, left and right. I hit him so fast and so hard that he didn’t even have a chance to breathe.
“This one’s for my brother. This one’s for Jim. This one’s for….” The list went on and on, and the punches kept coming. “This one’s for my Ching-Chong-Chinky mother. And this last one is for me,” I said as I concluded the assault with a grand finale—a really, really hard kick to his package.
The white boys in the audience had fear in their eyes. Forget how much I had been abused; I had just knocked out the biggest, baddest, oldest bully at school. I, Norbert Wang, the Chinaman, had just defeated Golden Gloves Johnny.
Forgetting all the smarting pains on my body I approached the crowd, which had multiplied over the course of the ten-minute brawl. “Let this be a lesson to all of you. If any one of you messes with me, my brother, or my friends, you’ll end up like him!” I pointed to the moaning sixteen year old lying on the floor.
The white boys opened a pathway to the door. I think they were too afraid to touch me, and I liked it that way.
When I came out, all of my siblings were there to meet me, except for Elbert. Egbert had found out from a kid running to the scene that a “Norbert Wang was gonna get his brains beat” and ran to Marshall High to find comfort with Janis. Robert showed up to pick up Janis and the three of them came running over to S.J. Peters to save me. Turns out, I didn’t need no one.
Imprint
I almost crapped my pants. How could I have forgotten that Johnny was Tony’s older brother? Johnny’s 6’2” muscular body loomed over my 5’10” skinny figure. He was a Golden Gloves fighter. He wasn’t a champ, but he had to be somewhat good to get the “G.G.”-- and he had years of boxing experience. Jim and I both knew the after school meeting in the boy’s locker room wasn’t going to be a friendly talk. Oh, how I hated those Italians.
“Ill pray for you, man,” Jim said with a sigh.
Four
The last two periods went by slowly, but it wasn’t slow enough. Three o’clock rolled around and I still didn’t have a plan. There wasn’t enough time to run to Ben Franklin High and get Robert to come protect me. Plus, I don’t even know how effective Robert would be, considering Johnny was a “G.G.” and all. I swallowed hard and made my way to the boys’ locker room.
On my way over I saw Paula and Mayra flash me two gorgeous smiles. I paused for a moment and took the beauty in—they might be the last women two I’d see in this lifetime. In the distance I saw Egbert playing on the field with our family friend, Ernie, totally oblivious to the current situation. “Too bad he’ll have no one to protect him from bullies when I’m gone,” I thought to myself.
Upon my arrival I was greeted by about 15 unfriendly white faces. Some were greasy and had missing teeth and odd shaped noses, but they were generally clean and pretty-boy status.
“He’s waiting for you,” said Nicholai, a hefty kid in the sixth grade. His name was funny; I think he was Greek or something. And then he kicked me in a place where no man should be kicked. I was firmly escorted into the bathroom after that.
Johnny was picking his teeth when I was dragged in. He looked really nice, I guess he had just combed and slicked his hair. I thought, “Johnny must be having a good day because he’s all spiffed up. If I compliment his hair he’ll just give me a little talk and let me be on my way. There’s nothing to worry about.” Following a few seconds of these ridiculous thoughts, I realized that I was out of my mind. I was an idiot, a dreamer-- Golden Gloves Johnny was here to kill me.
“You ready, Chinaman?” I recognized the voice of my classmate Tom, one of Johnny’s followers. I had thought Johnny was going to be the only one there to relish in my pain. Turns out, he had brought in a few of his friends to share the pleasurable experience with. He left the rest of them outside to watch the door.
I was about to respond when I received another blow to the unmentionables. It hurt like Hell times four. I fell to the ground, a little disoriented. Johnny picked me up off the ground.
“Get up, you fruit. Can you understand me? Or do I need to speak-o ya’lls retard-o language. Come on, Ching-chong-ding-a-ling-ling-ling.” He laughed at his own joke. I followed his directions like a dog follows its master’s orders. Johnny was the boxer, the bathroom was his ring, and I was the victim.
Johnny started bouncing around and we started circling. I was very careful with my footing and circled in a crouched position, hands in a fighting position covering my face.
“Who you think you are, boy, Bruce Lee?” He jumped in the air and kicked with an enthusiastic “Hi-Yah!” I, in fact, had zero experience in karate or any other self-defense techniques.
I took a few blows to the head, eight times to the right side of my face (he was a lefty) and five to the left to be exact. He pulled my hair a few times, mainly to get a better shot at my jaw. Three times to the stomach, four to the chest. Each time I fell Johnny was kind enough to let me get up before striking again. Meanwhile, the spectators enjoyed the show.
Johnny and I made our way down the locker aisles. I looked around desperately for help. Maybe there was someone still there. Was I still crazy? No one in the right mind would challenge Johnny, especially for a stupid Chinaman like me. For not paying attention I got another knee to the stomach. I fell to my knees.
“You’re nothin’, you piece of yellow trash! You and your kind can get out of here. Ya'll don’t belong.” I heard a few “amens” among his pals. He backed up a little so that I could stand up again.
Still on my knees I quikly scanned my immediate surroundings. Unfortunately, there were no guns, knives, or other lethal objects within reach on the cold, cement floor. All I saw was a dirty towel, the center benches, an apple core and a paper bag. The only things I could use were the center benches. The center benches! It was genius. The benches separated the two sides to each locker aisle and were each about ten feet in length.
I crawled over to where I thought the best positioning would be. I wasn’t going to take another painful hit without a fight.
“Hey, where do you think you're going, you cockroach?” he yelled as he pulled my hair to make me stand up.
“Nowhere, you jerk!” I rushed at Johnny and threw myself into him. The unexpected blow surprised him and the force of my whole body caused him to fall backward over the bench. Without hesitation I jumped on top of him and began throwing punches, left and right. I hit him so fast and so hard that he didn’t even have a chance to breathe.
“This one’s for my brother. This one’s for Jim. This one’s for….” The list went on and on, and the punches kept coming. “This one’s for my Ching-Chong-Chinky mother. And this last one is for me,” I said as I concluded the assault with a grand finale—a really, really hard kick to his package.
The white boys in the audience had fear in their eyes. Forget how much I had been abused; I had just knocked out the biggest, baddest, oldest bully at school. I, Norbert Wang, the Chinaman, had just defeated Golden Gloves Johnny.
Forgetting all the smarting pains on my body I approached the crowd, which had multiplied over the course of the ten-minute brawl. “Let this be a lesson to all of you. If any one of you messes with me, my brother, or my friends, you’ll end up like him!” I pointed to the moaning sixteen year old lying on the floor.
The white boys opened a pathway to the door. I think they were too afraid to touch me, and I liked it that way.
When I came out, all of my siblings were there to meet me, except for Elbert. Egbert had found out from a kid running to the scene that a “Norbert Wang was gonna get his brains beat” and ran to Marshall High to find comfort with Janis. Robert showed up to pick up Janis and the three of them came running over to S.J. Peters to save me. Turns out, I didn’t need no one.
Imprint
Publication Date: 12-25-2009
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