My First Arch-Nemesis

13 Jul

My first arch nemesis was a fellow class mate at primary school. His name was, and probably still is, Billy Thompson, and I loathed him with a passion. In fact, I still do. Thinking about him makes me angry. Year 7 (we were 11/12 years old) was when I finally snapped. He would spend most of the day trying to outdo me in one way or another, and weeks and weeks of his constant one-upmanship culminated in an petty acts of revenge on my part, and nearly saw me kicked out of the school.

Part of me thinks it was jealousy; I wasn’t unpopular by any means, I got on with most of the people at my school and did well in class, even the girls didn’t mind me (they would often steal my pencil case). I like to think that Billy didn’t like this, in fact, he probably saw me as his arch nemeses at the time. However, looking back, the rest of me realises that he was just a cunt of the highest order. If I only needed 30 stickers to complete my Panini album, he’d say he needed 29, but would he swap any stickers he had as swopsies with me that I needed? Would he fuck – even when I offered him 5 shinies for his normal Barry Venison sticker. This was just one example of how he tried to make my young life difficult. I was always the person he’d chase when he found a spider, much to the delight of the rest of the class. It was always me that got a snowball aimed at my face, or my head pushed under the water fountain at break time. My PE trainers would get thrown up onto the roof at least once a week and I would be his main target when playing Cops and Robbers during lunch. A few other kids in our class started commenting on how Billy was always trying to outdo me. One joked that he thought class fitty, Emma, was going off me and had started to fancy Billy. Whatever I did, or wherever I was, he would be there, stealing my amazing jokes and trying to make the girls laugh. I was beginning to crack…

It was during a Friday afternoon free study period that my plan to gain revenge on my arch nemesis came to fruition. I remember it vividly. It was a hot Summer’s afternoon, and a gentle breeze came in from the open windows. The time was normally used to catch up with any work you were behind on. I used this particular period to form my plan, with the help of my best friend at the time, Daniel. I’d vented my frustrations to him on a number of occasions, and this Friday afternoon was no different.

“He’s a tosser, Dan. I hate him. I wish he’d just die”, I whispered.

“Do something about it then”. Dan looked at me in the eye. “He loves making your life a misery, get him back. I’ll help you”.

“Phew, I thought you were telling me to kill him for a moment! I need to do this, I need to wipe that smile of his face. Get me some lined paper, I’ll write down our plan.”

And so for the next hour, we discussed various ways to get Billy back. The plan was to start off lightly and progress from there. Being young and naïve, the ways to get Billy back got more ingenious and impossible to achieve, although they would result in ultimate humiliation. Two I remember in particular were ‘After school, get Billy to look away from the road by shouting his name, and Dan will push him into the fat lollipop lady so that they both fall over’ and ‘Fill a sausage roll with dog poo and give it to Billy to eat and make him go blind’.
The bell sounded to signal the end of the lesson.

“It starts Monday”, I told Dan.

The weekend came and went without incident, and come Monday morning I was eager to get started. During registration, Billy whispered ‘gay’ when my name was called out. There was stifled laughter from some kids, but I just looked at him and stared. He smirked back at me and I carried on staring until he looked away. ‘One-niI’ thought I, and I knew I was going to make sure he got his comeuppance. I realise this tale is dragging on a bit, and if I went into great detail about what I actually did to Billy during the week, it would turn into an essay. So in list form, he are some of the things I remember doing:

-Dan and I hid every pritt stick in the class in Billy’s draw. When our teacher questioned their whereabouts, we hinted that Billy had them. She opened his draw and he was left red faced, as he had 15 sticks of glue stuffed in the back. His protests to the teacher fell on deaf ears
-We rolled up a piece of meatloaf and stuck it on top his rucksack. All the girls thought he had a piece of poo on his bag. Billy looked annoyed.
-I told Emma that Billy had a plastic blanket on his bed because he was always wetting it. The rumour spread like wildfire.
-There were numerous attempts to put drawing pins on his seat
-Dan farted in his draw one lunch time and closed in quickly shut
-We hid worms and ladybirds in his lunch box.
-We named Billy as the culprit after someone had left skid-marks in the boys toilets. I knew it was Patrick Ramsden really, but didn’t care.
-Dan, being quite a fast runner, would target Billy during ‘It’ and make him ‘It’. We would then stay in the safe zone for the remainder of break.
-We told Sandra, a girl who struggled with her weight somewhat, that Billy fancied her.
-We hid a ballet shoe in his PE bag (I don’t know why)

Looking back, it looks as though I turned into a bully for a week. But after 2 years of him being a wanker, I felt it necessary to do what I did. Billy was getting more and more agitated as the week went on, and on Thursday lunch time, it all came to a head.

“Stop being a fanny and leave me alone”, shouted Billy. The playground went silent.

“Oooh, egg-gy”, I remarked. “I don’t know what you’re on about, Billy”, I replied.

With that, Billy launched himself at me, pushing me in the chest. I fell backwards, but grabbed his shirt as I fell, and pulled him down with me. We hit the ground and rolled around, trying to Chinese burn each other. Billy got me in a headlock and started to rub his knuckles frantically across the top of my head. It hurt like a bitch, but I summoned up the strength to wriggle free. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the sand pit. I made a dash for it and picked up a fistful of sand. As Billy sprinted at me once more, I flung the sand in his eyes and he went down easier than Stephen Hawking after a few beers. Kneeling over him, I pressed my thumb into his eye. My frustrations were all coming out, in a very aggressive manner. Billy begged me to stop. I did momentarily but then started kicking his shins.

“I hate you, you prick”. I pulled off his shoes and chucked them into the hedge. A large circle had formed round us now, with kids shouting ‘Fight, fight, fight’. I was eventually pulled off of Billy by a teacher, and to shorten a long story ever so slightly, I was nearly suspended over my actions. I had to get my mum to explain to situation I had found myself in. One thing changed though, Billy soon backed off after the incident.

One Response to “My First Arch-Nemesis”

  1. Louie July 13, 2010 at 3:49 pm #

    This is the best story I have ever heard on any website ever.

    Keep it up.

    Young Wolf

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