Bionic
Well-known member
On Wed. night as I was walking home, I was approached by 2 guys (in front of a church, no less) and they told me that they had a gun and demanded all of my cash and i-POD. Like a jackass, I told them to go **** their mothers and then in the spirit of the dumbest **** anyone has ever said in the history of the world, I told them that they had better fvcking kill me because I would find them. I don't want to come off as not being terrified, because I was. I just figured that if this was my time, I was on Holy ground and my last feelings on Earth would NOT only be fear. Plus I was pissed that they looked at me (6'5.5" 240 lbs) and perceived me as a sucker.
Well, one guy kept trying to get behind me and I was standing at an angle to the guy infront of me and we were moving around because I kept shifting so that I could keep them both in sight. Now, back in the 80's, here in the Bronx, I've had guns pulled on me before and I know that if someone does have one they show it to you but these guys didn't. I still had no idea and I'm thinking about all of these things and trying to protect myself and property while the guy that's trying to get behind me says, like 3 times, "**** it, just shoot him!" After the 3rd time, I made the mistake of looking over at him and shouted "SHUT THE **** UP!" Bad idea. I got clocked, dead on in the nose, which started to pour like an open faucet. I'd like to go on the record as stating that I never fell, blacked out or was rocked. Anyway, when he re-coiled from the punch, I looked to see what I got hit with. Whether I was pistol-whipped or what. This was when I resigned myself to the fact that I WOULD be robbed and they took my i-POD and about 5 bucks in cash. GREAT NEWS. Brass-knuckles. At this point, something came over me and I felt both relieved and empowered. They both bolted and I took off after them. I didn't give a **** about the other guy because I only wanted the guy that hit me. I chased him for about half-a block and thought I would stop becasue I was losing alot of blood and I didn't want to pass out once I caught him. Anyways, he stops and turns around and puts his hands up and I just steam-roll him into a light-pole and he hits his head and gets knocked out. I mean, like, snoring. I looked around and saw that we were near an open back yard that had shrubbery that blocked the view from the street. I grabbed his foot and pulled him back there and went to work. I sat on his chest and put my knees over his arms. You MMA guys will know this to be the full-mount. I slapped his face to wake him up because I wanted him to see me and I began to ground and pound. Needless to say, he'll never be the same. When I was done, I used my cell to call the police. He came to in the hospital and confessed (because the cops found the brass knuckles and my i-pod on him) and gave up his accomplice.
Again, I don't want to seem like I wasn't terrified or that I had an ounce of control because I didn't. Firstly, I was scared for my life and then when the tables turned, I was a slave to my rage. Never once, did I feel like I was in control. This whole thing took place in a matter of 5-8 minutes.
Now, when I got back to work on Friday, everyone was treating me like a hero but I still feel like ****. I am, was and will always be a Christian first and foremost and not only do I feel bad about the whole situation, I'm not altogether happy with myself for beating this **** to a bloody pulp. I mean, I'm glad that I defended myself and whatnot but I always try to find a lesson in things. For some odd reason, I keep thinking of the story of Job and, basically, what would Jesus have done and do. I don't believe in coincidences nor do I believe that **** just happens. Remember, it started in front of a church. The DA feels it is a strong case and that a conviction is a "no-brainer" but I feel like (and trust me guys, I don't know why either) I should ask the court for leniency for them (they're 16 and 19. No prior records) and maybe get them probation and mandatory counseling. I'm really having a hard time with this decision and I put this up here not only as therapy for myself but because I respect you guys and hope that you guys can maybe give me some insight. Thanks, in advance, for your help and for taking the time to read it.
Well, one guy kept trying to get behind me and I was standing at an angle to the guy infront of me and we were moving around because I kept shifting so that I could keep them both in sight. Now, back in the 80's, here in the Bronx, I've had guns pulled on me before and I know that if someone does have one they show it to you but these guys didn't. I still had no idea and I'm thinking about all of these things and trying to protect myself and property while the guy that's trying to get behind me says, like 3 times, "**** it, just shoot him!" After the 3rd time, I made the mistake of looking over at him and shouted "SHUT THE **** UP!" Bad idea. I got clocked, dead on in the nose, which started to pour like an open faucet. I'd like to go on the record as stating that I never fell, blacked out or was rocked. Anyway, when he re-coiled from the punch, I looked to see what I got hit with. Whether I was pistol-whipped or what. This was when I resigned myself to the fact that I WOULD be robbed and they took my i-POD and about 5 bucks in cash. GREAT NEWS. Brass-knuckles. At this point, something came over me and I felt both relieved and empowered. They both bolted and I took off after them. I didn't give a **** about the other guy because I only wanted the guy that hit me. I chased him for about half-a block and thought I would stop becasue I was losing alot of blood and I didn't want to pass out once I caught him. Anyways, he stops and turns around and puts his hands up and I just steam-roll him into a light-pole and he hits his head and gets knocked out. I mean, like, snoring. I looked around and saw that we were near an open back yard that had shrubbery that blocked the view from the street. I grabbed his foot and pulled him back there and went to work. I sat on his chest and put my knees over his arms. You MMA guys will know this to be the full-mount. I slapped his face to wake him up because I wanted him to see me and I began to ground and pound. Needless to say, he'll never be the same. When I was done, I used my cell to call the police. He came to in the hospital and confessed (because the cops found the brass knuckles and my i-pod on him) and gave up his accomplice.
Again, I don't want to seem like I wasn't terrified or that I had an ounce of control because I didn't. Firstly, I was scared for my life and then when the tables turned, I was a slave to my rage. Never once, did I feel like I was in control. This whole thing took place in a matter of 5-8 minutes.
Now, when I got back to work on Friday, everyone was treating me like a hero but I still feel like ****. I am, was and will always be a Christian first and foremost and not only do I feel bad about the whole situation, I'm not altogether happy with myself for beating this **** to a bloody pulp. I mean, I'm glad that I defended myself and whatnot but I always try to find a lesson in things. For some odd reason, I keep thinking of the story of Job and, basically, what would Jesus have done and do. I don't believe in coincidences nor do I believe that **** just happens. Remember, it started in front of a church. The DA feels it is a strong case and that a conviction is a "no-brainer" but I feel like (and trust me guys, I don't know why either) I should ask the court for leniency for them (they're 16 and 19. No prior records) and maybe get them probation and mandatory counseling. I'm really having a hard time with this decision and I put this up here not only as therapy for myself but because I respect you guys and hope that you guys can maybe give me some insight. Thanks, in advance, for your help and for taking the time to read it.