I lost my first fight. It was against my very own so-called ‘best friend’ Craig S. Seventh grade. I met this kid and we hit it off. He was funny and he came from parents that had money. So it came as a surprise when I caught him stealing my Mad and Cracked magazines out of my school locker. It didn’t have shit, so those few 35 cent humor mags were my whole life. Hell, the very FIRST Mad I ever bought was in that pile. I’d noticed that a few had gone missing the day before, and commented to Craig that that was some fucking bullshit (I was 12. I didn’t swear like that. Or maybe I did?) as I was the poorest kid in school. Why the fuck would anyone steal from me? Asshole. I challenged his ass to the after school fight right there and then. 3 o’clock rolled around and he showed up. With other dudes. I was alone. Why? He was my only friend. I had thought that we could perhaps talk about it and he would give me my magazines back. But he had a different take on things and started talking shit immediately. I blasted him in the face. He blasted me in the face about 20 times in 3 seconds and I hit the ground. He jumped on top of me and started pounding my face until I screamed “Uncle”. I was bloody and had a black eye. Maybe 2 black eyes. I also had a deep cut on my knuckle from one of Craig’s front teeth. I still have a deep scar on my knuckle from that tooth. Which, a week later, would fall right out of Craig’s head leaving him with a Jack O’ Lantern grin for a while. After that beating, I learned how to fight. I was so upset and humiliated that I started punching things to make my hands stronger, and I asked my Uncles for some fighting tips. But what really did it for me was a burning desire to show the assholes of the world that I was not a victim. I hated seventh grade.