I got beaten by an eight year old.
“I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.” ~Bruce Lee
Around about 2002ish I was several years into my multi decade stint working in the grocery business. One of my coworkers had a son that was eight years old. This assumingly innocent child had a deep dark secret.
The secret unbeknownst to me at the time was that this child’s mother encouraged him to start training in the martial arts, Karate, when he was five years old.
His mother took him to go train in the martial arts, four days a week, every week of the year. This went on for three years in a row.
I feel that I was denied important need to know information, before engaging in horse play with him.
I am sure that you can guess how this story ends, but I am embarrassingly going to reveal the details to you anyway. Please keep in mind, he trained in the martial arts for 3 years before I met him.
We were play fighting in the store before the store opened, and a cashier asked me a question. I tried to get him to stop so I could answer her, but he kept fighting, so I grabbed ahold of his shoulder and extended my arm to keep him away from me.
I then looked over at the cashier to talk to her. While I was doing that he was positioning his hands, and arms around mine, and the next thing I knew I was laying on the floor on my back.
Do you know what is worse than a grown man getting beat up, and thrown helplessly onto the floor by an eight year old?
He made me say “uncle” before he would let me go, so I could get back up.
The cashier sure enjoyed the show.
I had him teach me how he did it afterwards.
Now move the clock ahead about ten years. I was standing outside a 7-11 store, and a drunk guy approached me slightly stumbling. He put his hand on my shoulder, and with slurred speech said, “Go in there, and buy me a beer.”
I knocked his hand away, and told him not to put his hand on me.
He foolishly grabbed my shoulder again and told me, “You are going to buy me a beer, or I’m gonna tell you what.”
For some reason my mind went back in time to the previous incident. Not only did I remember how to do it, it worked quite well. The drunk guy was on his back, and then walked away after I let him go.
Thanks little buddy.
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