My pal Sean Leary, his dad and I took a trip to Kaybee Toys and Hobbies.   Except for the fact that Sean is white and I'm black we looked like typical kids.  The time we spent at this modest suburban toy store went pretty well at first.  Sean's dad Patrick shopped  while we browsed the toy aisles. 

Eventually Patrick checked out, telling us that he'll meet us outside. Sean and I tried to purchase a couple of Star Wars action figures but found we didn't have the membership card that Patrick had carried outside with him. We left the candy and headed outside.

On the way out, we got seized by security and frisked ... with special attention paid to me. I'm talking arm-twisting and extra hard ramming into walls.  When we told Patrick what happened, he told us to "forget about it".  So we got into the car and I was driven home.  This tiny taste of real-world injustice was overpowering.  And the fact that Sean's dad felt that my being publicly degraded was something that should be ignored, or wasn't worth his time ... well that was just sickening.   

Later I told MY dad what had happened.  He immediately returned to the store, getting a complete explanation from everyone involved and a FULL apology for me.  He is calm, productive and aware.   He's my dad.  

But he couldn't protect me from everything, though I'm certain he would have liked to.  But parents simply can't shield their kids from all the shit the world stirs up.  The youngsters have to develop a thick skin and learn to deal with things on their own.  

Unfortunately I realized how thin my skin still was after I poured my heart into a magazine the school was publishing.  

 You see Mr. Lindegren, one of the journalism teachers, started a magazine called Headcases: The Magazine for Thinking Student

There were many student-oriented magazines around, but most of their articles are written by professionals "telling parents what they could do to solve the modern-day problems of their children" 

Lindegren felt that the students' ability to creatively come up with solutions for contemporary problems was being slighted a bit.  So he created a magazine that would be produced alongside the school newspaper.  A magazine where students were allowed to freely express themselves and present ideas at solving existing tribulations in society.  Not just in our school ... not just in the United States ... but globally.  

Well a student, Scott Helfer, wrote an article about the troubles of Africa.  And he used many Western journalism sources to describe how "bloodthirsty" the Africans were and how "crazy" they were and how "Africans seemed to defy any kind of modern governance or civilized behavior". The continent and its people were and still are disparaged by these Westerners who attempt to conceal their racist contempt beneath a veil of moral condemnation.  

Not once did Helfer, or any of his sources for that matter, point out the fact that political clashes over territory and resources were the direct result of the "help" given to African nations by the Western world.  Not once did any of the British, French or American journalists point out that it was the British, French and American government that were primarily responsible for not only sowing rivalry between groups, but also for doing their damndest to exacerbate existing tensions.  

Africa's history is riddled with foreign trickery and backstabbing disguised as "help" and everyone knew it.   Still it was far more pleasing to white Western leaders to see stories written that were based on their racist modes of thinking.  Looking into the mirror and taking responsibility for their part in the continent's devastations was something they simply could not do.  

So I wrote an article using African sources to detain how the much of the continent's violence stemmed from multinational struggles in which Western nations and corporations, seeking as always to plunder Africa's wealth, financed "insurgents" willing to sell their services to anyone. 

It was a great article.  Concise and all true.  I was so proud of it that, when Mr. Lindegren seized me in homeroom as the bell rang, I thought he was going to congratulate me on having done such a good job.  

I waited with keen eagerness as the classroom cleared.  When we were finally alone, he looked down at me, smiled, and withdrew my article from his drawer.  I recognized it immediately because it was written on notebook paper.  I had submitted it before learning that all manuscripts had to be typed.

"Unacceptable." Was all he said, but there was a trace of a smile on his almost impossibly thin lips. 

"I didn't realize it had to be typed," I said, "I'll type it up an-"

"It's not the fact that it's hand-written," he said, his smile widening, as if amused by something he didn't plan on sharing with me.  "The article itself isn't acceptable.  The subject matter and writing aren't suitable for the magazine."

He was clearly smiling now.  Smiling as he destroyed my world.  

"My suggestion to you is that you concentrate on your studies.  I also suggest you quit working on the magazine.  

The smile was frozen now. And so were those blue eyes.  No softness at all in those blue eyes.  Blue ice.

I didn't tear my eyes away from them.  I wouldn't look away or even blink. I imagined his eyes were two azure jewels that I could pluck right out of his fucking head.  My voice gave away how hurt I was though.  He leafed through my manuscript, nose wrinkled now, as if an odor rose from the pages.  

"I want to be a writer," I said, knowing that my voice trembled, "I know I have a lot to learn-"

"You can worry about being a writer later. Your priority is to study, so that you can catch up to the rest of the school."

Catch up to the rest of the school?? On my last report card I'd gotten all A's and B's.  For a moment I wondered what the hell he was talking about ... then I slowly began to realize that he hadn't a clue what my academic status was.  He simply assumed, because I was black, that I was fairing poorly.  

He went on to give me a few bullshit reasons why my article wasn't acceptable, when anyone who was awake could clearly see the truth; that he simply didn't like the fact that I was highlighting the fact that the civilized white western world had a hand in the deplorable state of savage black Africa.  

I knew this because my father had always taught me that the first reality check is a thorough knowledge of true history.  Human behavior hasn't changed one speck in any important way for the past four thousand years.  There are patterns of causality; certain kinds of things happen over and over, for similar reasons and with similar results.  The more history you know, the more likely you are to notice when someone's trying to bullshit you.  

Well I knew then that Mr. Lindegren was not only bullshitting me, but also ripping my heart out by forcing me out of activities I really liked being involved in.  And I was helpless to do anything about it.  

So, in the end, I just stumbled out of the classroom and trudged along the corridor while trying not to sob out loud.   

***

After the school day was over, Eddie Lindegren stopped to get a bite to eat at one of the little burrito joints that's been springing up around town lately and you ran into some Korean boys who needed a jump in the parking lot.  He accidentally hooked the cables the wrong way and when he tried to get it going, the current blew both batteries.

He was about to make some sort of apology when one of the boys punched him in the gut while another jumped on his back and still another punched him with his fists on his head!  

One boy grabbed his right arm with the forefinger of his left hand, then twisted it behind his back and kicked in the back of his knees from behind.  He then used his elbows as side fists and smash his temples at 45 degrees until the journalism teacher thought he might black out.

While Lindegren was trying to figure out a way to escape, he saw one of the Korean boys put his hand in the pocket of his jacket. Like a lightning bolt, a chill went through his body, since he thought he was going to take out a weapon. He tried to run, but the other boy had a firm grasp on his arm. Then he grabbed the youth from behind ... catching the journalism teacher in the crook of his arm. 

He pulled it so tight with the other arm that Eddie could barely breathe. The man called Lee Joon literally dragged him down the hill on the opposite side of the eatery. The young man kicked and cried and fought, but to no avail. Lee Joon's face was grim and his jaw was set.  He glared at Edward Lindegren, "I think it's time for the great teacher to learn a lesson today!"

Suddenly, Lee Joon squeezed the young man's neck tight with his arm. The journalism teacher fought again, but it was no use. The towering Korean man's had him in a death grip and there was nothing he could do about it. His voice oozed and purred as he tightened his grip. 

"Yeah ... try and fight me you punk bitch.  You're going to sleep."

Those were the last words Eddie heard before, with a strangled moan, his body went limp. After stripping him down to his socks, Lee Joon pulled the unconscious young man into a currently unoccupied structure that had been The Film Canteen Movie Rental shop.

Suddenly Kim Soo Ki, Lee Joon's brother, burst into the abandoned establishment and immediately began attacking the helpless unconscious thirty-two-year-old. He attacked his groin and stomped on his balls a couple of times. 

He managed to stagger to his feet, and as the brothers advanced on him again he leaped and threw a jumping kick right at Kim Soo’s stomach. He only succeeded in pushing him a few inches back … and the savage Korean beauty responded by pounding Eddie and sending him crashing to the floor again.  He then stomped on him again.  

The Korean man eventually stopped stomping and just rested his foot on top of him.  After a while Eddie was finally able to push his foot away, but was unable to leap out of the way before he stomped on him again. This time all of his brothers, including Jung Yong and Lee Soo, joined his and the journalism teacher was stomped unconscious.  

He unzipped his trousers, grabbed a handful of his nuts and dragged him out of the abandoned establishment. Coming to, Eddie squealed for mercy, his god, his mom, forgiveness, all sorts of things … but Kim Soo never let go. The journalism teacher must have weighed about a hundred seventy pounds and he almost lifted him off the floor by his nuts! 

Eddie passed out again by the time Kim Soo had him back out into the open air. 

After dragging the journalism teacher into the shrubbery and stripping him completely naked, Lee Joon slung the unconscious man over his shoulder and carried him to a more secluded area. 

A softly moaning Eddie felt a tongue flicker along his piss slit, through the buzzing fog, up the shaft, and dive into his twitching hole, and then after what seemed ages of the slimy wet invasion withdrew. He felt a female hand grasp his hair and pull his head backward. What followed was the most intense blinding pain he would ever know, as without warning as Lee Soo Ki removed one of his shoes and used it’s heel to rip past his unsuspecting sphincter and began to ramrod against his prostate while maintaining stranglehold on his dick.

The brothers worried that the scream might bring passers by to their victim's aid, but it did not last long as the journalism teacher quickly lost consciousness after the first brutal thrust. They looked down at the young teacher, out cold and totally helpless.  

Savagely, Lee Joon yanked the unconscious journalism teacher up so that the head rested on the trunk of a tree and leaned in close to force his tongue as far as possible between the parted lips and down into the throat. He kissed and sucked on the tongue of Eddie Jarlson until the young man regained consciousness.  

Then the towering Korean man forced the groggy, naked journalism teacher/soccer coach to stand in front of the pole of a Saturday Fair tent that had yet to be assembled. Lee Joon lifted his limp arms up above his head. He then wrapped a piece of strip of cloth (made from Bower's own shredded shirt) around the journalism teacher's wrists and the pole, securing them in place, high above his head. 

When he got to his socked feet he paused to get a whiff of them.

Soon he was taking his time removing his adversary’s socks and smelling his bare feet.  Then he began to lick them.  Eddie remained unconscious to a degree, but it was clear from his moans and twitches that he could feel his female attacker working his tongue in between his toes and all over his left foot.  Then the Korean man gave his right foot the same treatment, even sucking on the toes as well.  When he was done he tied Eddie's ankles together, and around the pole. His bare feet were on the far side of the pole from the towering Korean man. For good measure, Lee Joon used Ed's own shoelaces to tie his toes together.  

After gagging the journalism teacher/soccer coach with his own sweaty socks, Lee Joon then stood up, and motioned for Kim Soo and Lee Soo to have their way with the young man. 

Lee Soo tickled his armpits. The journalism teacher laughed out in pain. He continued to do this for several minutes, after which the young man began to cry with laughter. Lee Soo eventually stopped ... and then Kim Soo stepped forward. He softly rubbed his hands all over the man's body, from his elbows down to his bound bare feet. 

He gave him a hard love-bite on the back of his neck, and more all down his back and his legs. He licked his back and his legs all over, twice. He walked away, and Lee Soo stepped forward again--this time holding a branch of wood he'd found. 

First of all slowly, then quicker, he drew it across the journalism teacher's back and thighs. He hit his arms, whipped his back and lashed his legs. He continued to do this for a while, continually thrashing the man all over with the wood. He drew blood in a few places. The journalism teacher screamed in pain, and began to wail and cry through his sock gag. 

Lee Soo merely carried on, enjoying the suffering and the pain he was inflicting upon the fixed, stationary, large, bare, inviting body of the teacher. He beat and strapped the man from the very points of his fingernails to the tips of his toes, from his hair to his ankles. By the time he had finished, there was not one part of the man's skin that was not red and sore, not one hair on his body that had escaped the hitting of the branch. 

Lee Soo eventually dropped the branch, and Kim Soo placed his hands gently on the man's back. Eddie screamed in pain. The boy put his face to his back, and began to lap up any blood on his body with his tongue. He brushed it away with his lips, and washed his back with his mouth. While tasting his back, he stuck his hands up his front and gripped and twisted his testicles until he passed out. Then he stood back, and untied him -- watching with a cruel smile and the unconscious man's bloodied body tumbled limply to the ground. 

Now Eddie's ass was up in the air, the pale skin of his back gleaming in the sun. 

Time for something new…

To be continued…