Violent Streak?

Do NOT take my cookie.

Someone I respect very much recently said they think I have a violent streak-- and I don't agree, don't make me punch you-- but I can tell you without fail that I will not run from a fight.  I won't start it-- at least I hope I won't-- but I will not run.  The past few years Coaching Boxing at the Boys Club has shown me more than a few ways to deliver a pretty good whooping on those who starts it.

I've had a few instances over the years-- sporting events, bars and gas stations seem to be the more prominent spots where testosterone takes over common sense-- which is why you tend not to find me at sporting events and bars while I continue to have issues at gas stations.

One involved a guy who was slapping around his girlfriend right at the pump next to me.  When I told him to knock it off he cracked a joke about my manhood because I was wearing tassled shoes.

It actually got me to laugh for a minute--1. because I had forgotten I was wearing them and a suit and 2. because this guy was about to get his ass-kicked by a guy in tassled shoes.

Another time a homeless guy came up to me at a gas pump and asked me for a dollar.  I had just swiped my credit card at the pump and put it back in my wallet, then put my wallet in my breast pocket.   I hardly regarded him as I said I didn't have a dollar.

Within a second he was reaching inside my coat pocket and saying he saw one.  It took me a second to realize what was happening, then another second to lay him out with a right cross that both tore my leather glove and shattered his nose into about forty pieces.  He stumbled backwards, tripped over the pump and landed hard on the ground.  From nowhere a friend ran to his aide and started yelling that they were going to sue me.

The owner of the station came running out and said he had just called 911 and had the whole thing on security video.  Both bums got up and started running-- I tackled the first one and the owner grabbed the second one as the cops pulled up.

They called an ambulance and had me checked out-- doused me with a rinsing solution because they were concerned what this guy was carrying.   Eventually I got word that he was clean, but not before I had to toss out the clothes and leather jacket I was wearing.

Recently I was watching one of those reality clip shows and these two punks attempt to rob an elderly jewelry store owner.  After they mace him and smash his showcase to grab the jewels he pulls a gun and starts shooting wildly-- scaring the hell out of these would be robbers.  They end up trapped in the store and he pistol whips one and kicks the other.

When the police arrive a few minutes later and start to take them away-- he can't resist and gives one another kick in the head before he's helped out.

That's my kind of old guy.

NEXT WEEK: Tune in for a very in-depth look at how to produce, print and distribute a graphic novel!