Turdlips

Originally posted November 10, 2008.)

As a child, I was considered “athletically challenged.”  I could not catch or throw a ball to save my life.  Despite that fact, I played tee ball one year in elementary school.

The one time I did catch a ball was an accident.  Actually, I didn’t really catch the ball.  The ball landed in my glove.

I stood in right field with my left hand up.  I pretended to be ready to catch.  The truth is, I wasn’t paying attention to the game.  I was thinking about the amusement park I wanted to build with Legos.

As I planned the details of my Lego Ferris wheel, I heard the crowd scream, “throw it!”

I looked around to figure out whom this idiot was that wasn’t “throwing it.” Turns out I was the idiot.

Even at 8-years-old, I liked the word idiot.

The ball had landed in my glove.

I threw the ball as hard as I could, three, four, twelve times.  Each time I threw the ball, it landed two-feet in front of me.

Little did I know that ten years later my inability to catch would come back to haunt me in a high school egg toss.  That’s a story for later.

One day I’m playing alone in my backyard and one of the neighborhood bullies starts to throw rocks at me.

It was Turdlips.  His real name was Jeremy, but I called him Turdlips because of he had big pouty lips and his mouth was shaped like an “O.”  I believed this was caused because he sucked on cat turds.  Also, I didn’t like him.  This, of course, was before big pouty lips were in style.

I picked up one of the rocks and threw it back.

I hit Turdlips.

Me.

The person who could not throw or catch to save his life hit Turdlips.

A few minutes later, an angry mother knocked on my front door.  She yelled at my mom for me throwing rocks.  I was told I couldn’t throw rocks anymore.

I’m back outside, still playing alone, and Turdlips is back.  This time he brought more bullies.

Four kids threw rocks at me.

I was an imaginative child and needed to defend myself.  I knew I couldn’t throw rocks … but I did have a dog.  A huge English sheepdog.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel.

I walked out to the yard, picked up dog feces and pelted Turdlips with it.  I didn’t disobey my mom, because I didn’t throw rocks.

The kids screamed, “It’s pooooooop!  Run!  Pooooooooop!”

They ran up the cul-de-sac.

Turdlips never bothered me again.