Fight
Fight
Have you ever gotten into a physical fight, and if so, how did it come about and how did it end? Were you scared? Were you the aggressor? Did you get hurt? Tell me about your experience!
Re: Fight
I got into a couple of fights a couple of times. I wasn't the instigator, but I was the aggresive one. I found out that the more aggresive you are, the easier the other person either quits the fight, or the easier you win. I came out alright, with minor bruises all the time. Once, my lip was cut and I had a bloody nose, but you should see the other guy
It never really hurts when I fight, its always 10 minutes after the fight you start to get sore. Usually my fights ended with either the other guy walking away, or my friends intervening. Once, I only rememberd my friend Besfort body checking some guy off me into the bushes, and then helping me up.
It never really hurts when I fight, its always 10 minutes after the fight you start to get sore. Usually my fights ended with either the other guy walking away, or my friends intervening. Once, I only rememberd my friend Besfort body checking some guy off me into the bushes, and then helping me up.
Funny, yet sad. Kinda like getting tit-fucked by a clown.
I've been in fights. Almost all of them in my high school days. Three to be exact, I was never the instigator, but when pushed I will fight. I won twice, once with the other pasing out, the other time my opponent fled. The third fight was never finished since a teacher intervened.
It's lonely at the top. But it's comforting to look down upon everyone at the bottom.
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I've only been in two fights since high school, and both of them really didn't qualify. One was me shoulder tossing a scrawny little wife-beating son of a bitch through a glass patio table and the other was me getting smashed in the back of the head with a crowbar as I walked out of a bar by a woman's husband who I didn't know existed. The two incidents were not related. Neither of them have been within the last seven years, and anymore, I'd just as likely give up and walk away. My temper isn't what it was, and I really just don't care much anymore.
Screw liquid diamond. I want to be able to fling apartment building sized ingots of extracted metal into space.
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When I was in the army, several. Since then, none.
Me and this one guy "Killadelphia" a true gangsta apparently and I had words on several occasions. He slugged me in the side/ back of the dome and I ate a brick wall as I was coming down the stairs. That sucked. Brushed it off, goaded him in to a fight later that day. He was a big guy. Tall, lanky. Lot of reach, even for me. Broke his nose and split his upper and lower lips. I very nearly got skewered in the back by the top of the foot board pole (where it would attach to the top of a bunk bed set). I lucked out, I was flying backward, choking him out as he charged forward: I was largely airborne. I threw my right arm back and caught the bedframe and the bed slid across the floor, dumping me on my back (not good) but I avoided a big injury. I ended up with bruised ribs.
I wasn't scared. At this point I had 17-18 years of martial arts training and I knew I had the advantage. If anything I was pissed but trying to contain it so I could beat this punk to a pulp as it was the only way he'd ever learn.
My favorite though was in a bar (Rock Fabrik in Schweinfurt GE). The bouncers were all these musclebound freaks (downstairs from the club was a gym) and they had been pushing around Joe lately, drop your drink, get swarmed, dragged out and beaten by bouncers. So we decided to take it back and show up thick, usually in packs of 5+ and never alone.
My buddy (and I don't recall why as I was pretty drunk at the time) was grabbed by the collar/ shouder by a bouncer and was being dragged to the door. Me, being the hero of the story rushed to his aid! It was an awesome shot. Big wind up haymaker. Caught the big bouncer in the side of the face and dropped him like a bad habit. Yeah! Take that bitches!
Unfortunately, I never saw the other bouncer who had seen me apparently winding up and drop his partner. He caught me before I even settled on my feet, carried me with my momentum straight in to a set of diamond-plate steel covered swinging doors, face first. I impacted the door, went through it to the stairs below, bouncing unceremoniously to the landing below. My bud following seconds afterward.
Needless to say it was time to un-ass the AO so we hauled ass across the HWY through the German Sports Club property to the corn fields behind Conn Barracks. We saw the Polzei patrolling the area for a bit, looking for us. We were infantrymen, sneaking through bushes and stuff is what we did for a living. We slipped in the bent back gate and back in to the Battalion Area.
I ended up looking like I was scalped or something. Cut my scalp and I bled like a stuck pig. Now THAT was a helluva night!
I vaguely remember another fight where I took a pool cue to the mouth. Apparently we did a lot of damage. I woke up puking the next morning, sick as a dog. Too much tequila. Oh, and I was missing my front two teeth. I had a first date at 12 noon too. I was able to get in for a 9am Emergency Dental visit and made my date, hungover but otherwise none the worse for wear.
Me and this one guy "Killadelphia" a true gangsta apparently and I had words on several occasions. He slugged me in the side/ back of the dome and I ate a brick wall as I was coming down the stairs. That sucked. Brushed it off, goaded him in to a fight later that day. He was a big guy. Tall, lanky. Lot of reach, even for me. Broke his nose and split his upper and lower lips. I very nearly got skewered in the back by the top of the foot board pole (where it would attach to the top of a bunk bed set). I lucked out, I was flying backward, choking him out as he charged forward: I was largely airborne. I threw my right arm back and caught the bedframe and the bed slid across the floor, dumping me on my back (not good) but I avoided a big injury. I ended up with bruised ribs.
I wasn't scared. At this point I had 17-18 years of martial arts training and I knew I had the advantage. If anything I was pissed but trying to contain it so I could beat this punk to a pulp as it was the only way he'd ever learn.
My favorite though was in a bar (Rock Fabrik in Schweinfurt GE). The bouncers were all these musclebound freaks (downstairs from the club was a gym) and they had been pushing around Joe lately, drop your drink, get swarmed, dragged out and beaten by bouncers. So we decided to take it back and show up thick, usually in packs of 5+ and never alone.
My buddy (and I don't recall why as I was pretty drunk at the time) was grabbed by the collar/ shouder by a bouncer and was being dragged to the door. Me, being the hero of the story rushed to his aid! It was an awesome shot. Big wind up haymaker. Caught the big bouncer in the side of the face and dropped him like a bad habit. Yeah! Take that bitches!
Unfortunately, I never saw the other bouncer who had seen me apparently winding up and drop his partner. He caught me before I even settled on my feet, carried me with my momentum straight in to a set of diamond-plate steel covered swinging doors, face first. I impacted the door, went through it to the stairs below, bouncing unceremoniously to the landing below. My bud following seconds afterward.
Needless to say it was time to un-ass the AO so we hauled ass across the HWY through the German Sports Club property to the corn fields behind Conn Barracks. We saw the Polzei patrolling the area for a bit, looking for us. We were infantrymen, sneaking through bushes and stuff is what we did for a living. We slipped in the bent back gate and back in to the Battalion Area.
I ended up looking like I was scalped or something. Cut my scalp and I bled like a stuck pig. Now THAT was a helluva night!
I vaguely remember another fight where I took a pool cue to the mouth. Apparently we did a lot of damage. I woke up puking the next morning, sick as a dog. Too much tequila. Oh, and I was missing my front two teeth. I had a first date at 12 noon too. I was able to get in for a 9am Emergency Dental visit and made my date, hungover but otherwise none the worse for wear.
Quoth Drunken Master:
"When Colin Powell walks out of your cabinet because of doctrinal issues, you've got problems."
Quoth Moto42:
"Bulldrek, where love and appreciation are accompanied by a volley of gunfire."
"When Colin Powell walks out of your cabinet because of doctrinal issues, you've got problems."
Quoth Moto42:
"Bulldrek, where love and appreciation are accompanied by a volley of gunfire."
- Serious Paul
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I've been in a handful of fights, none of them particularly interesting; mostly schoolyard stuff, or restraining a friend who's had too much to drink. People don't start fights with me, and over the years I've learned to control my temper [mostly] and besides, I've got this rhetoric/oratory/charisma thing going for me, which is probably a better choice for me than relying on my fighting skills, which could charitably be termed "rudimentary."
My favorite fight never became a fight: I was at a party, with people who were drinking [though I was not], and I was carrying, as was my wont at the time, my extendable baton. One fellow - Neil, we'll call him - was taking certain liberties with a girl we'll call Susan. Neil had pulled Susan onto his lap, and was roughly groping and fondling her under her shirt and down her pants. Susan was saying, "Neil, no! Stop!" and Neil was not stopping. This seemed to alarm no one, despite the fact that Susan was getting more strident by the moment.
So I approached Neil, who thought little of my presence until I stepped solidly on his foot - to prevent his standing, see - and pulled out the baton, which makes this noise - r-r-r-ack! - which has much the same effect as racking the pump on a shotgun.
"Let her go, Neil," I said, in a low and level voice.
He did. She ran into the house. Neil looked at me, looked at my foot, looked at my baton, looked at me again. I knew Neil reasonably well - he worked with my then-girlfriend - and he'd never seen this sort of behavior from me; we'd never spoken much, and Neil's behavior toward me could best be described as "contemptuous." He was my height or so, but if you were, for some reason, to wrap a rope around Neil's bicep, you'd find it was roughly the size of, say, my leg. Neil found this all somewhat bemusing, as I think no one had ever, in his life, confronted Neil about much of anything.
His voice in return was calm, as well. "You're standing on my foot," he said.
"Yeah, I am."
"Are you serious? Are we going to fight here?" he asked.
"No," I said. "I got what I wanted," nodding in the direction of the house, where Susan had fled. I turned around, dropped to one knee and collapsed the baton against the cement porch, and meandered inside, feeling rather like the king of something or another.
That feeling didn't last. When Susan saw me later, she asked, aggressively, "Why did you do that?"
Bemused and not a little offended, I replied, "He was disrespecting you. You asked him to stop - pretty clearly, a bunch of times - and he didn't."
She waved a hand, completely dismissive. "Oh, that's just Neil and me. We do that," she said.
As I recall, my face flushed with anger, which I should note it's doing again as I write this. Coldly I told her, "Then I think you can safely assume I won't ever attempt to defend your virtue in the future." Bitch. No means no, and making no mean, "ha ha" doesn't do anyone any favors.
Good came from it. Though I was somewhat concerned Neil might take umbrage to my actions, instead his previous contemptuous air disappeared. He might have thought what I did was bullshit, but by standing up to him, I proved - to him - that I was his peer, and from that day on he's treated me with nothing but respect, and since then, I have never once witnessed him disrespecting a woman; perhaps he continues, but never once in front of me. That doesn't make me feel much like king of anything, but it's better than the emotions she provoked in me, so I'll take it.
My favorite fight never became a fight: I was at a party, with people who were drinking [though I was not], and I was carrying, as was my wont at the time, my extendable baton. One fellow - Neil, we'll call him - was taking certain liberties with a girl we'll call Susan. Neil had pulled Susan onto his lap, and was roughly groping and fondling her under her shirt and down her pants. Susan was saying, "Neil, no! Stop!" and Neil was not stopping. This seemed to alarm no one, despite the fact that Susan was getting more strident by the moment.
So I approached Neil, who thought little of my presence until I stepped solidly on his foot - to prevent his standing, see - and pulled out the baton, which makes this noise - r-r-r-ack! - which has much the same effect as racking the pump on a shotgun.
"Let her go, Neil," I said, in a low and level voice.
He did. She ran into the house. Neil looked at me, looked at my foot, looked at my baton, looked at me again. I knew Neil reasonably well - he worked with my then-girlfriend - and he'd never seen this sort of behavior from me; we'd never spoken much, and Neil's behavior toward me could best be described as "contemptuous." He was my height or so, but if you were, for some reason, to wrap a rope around Neil's bicep, you'd find it was roughly the size of, say, my leg. Neil found this all somewhat bemusing, as I think no one had ever, in his life, confronted Neil about much of anything.
His voice in return was calm, as well. "You're standing on my foot," he said.
"Yeah, I am."
"Are you serious? Are we going to fight here?" he asked.
"No," I said. "I got what I wanted," nodding in the direction of the house, where Susan had fled. I turned around, dropped to one knee and collapsed the baton against the cement porch, and meandered inside, feeling rather like the king of something or another.
That feeling didn't last. When Susan saw me later, she asked, aggressively, "Why did you do that?"
Bemused and not a little offended, I replied, "He was disrespecting you. You asked him to stop - pretty clearly, a bunch of times - and he didn't."
She waved a hand, completely dismissive. "Oh, that's just Neil and me. We do that," she said.
As I recall, my face flushed with anger, which I should note it's doing again as I write this. Coldly I told her, "Then I think you can safely assume I won't ever attempt to defend your virtue in the future." Bitch. No means no, and making no mean, "ha ha" doesn't do anyone any favors.
Good came from it. Though I was somewhat concerned Neil might take umbrage to my actions, instead his previous contemptuous air disappeared. He might have thought what I did was bullshit, but by standing up to him, I proved - to him - that I was his peer, and from that day on he's treated me with nothing but respect, and since then, I have never once witnessed him disrespecting a woman; perhaps he continues, but never once in front of me. That doesn't make me feel much like king of anything, but it's better than the emotions she provoked in me, so I'll take it.
- Serious Paul
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- Ampere
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Yep. Totally true.Serious Paul wrote:It's amazing what people you've never met can tell you about themselves in just a few short words.
Quoth Drunken Master:
"When Colin Powell walks out of your cabinet because of doctrinal issues, you've got problems."
Quoth Moto42:
"Bulldrek, where love and appreciation are accompanied by a volley of gunfire."
"When Colin Powell walks out of your cabinet because of doctrinal issues, you've got problems."
Quoth Moto42:
"Bulldrek, where love and appreciation are accompanied by a volley of gunfire."
- Jeff Hauze
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Dude, I've tried to tell you a million different times. Give up already. Goddamnit, I'm not gay!Serious Paul wrote:It's amazing what people you've never met can tell you about themselves in just a few short words.
Screw liquid diamond. I want to be able to fling apartment building sized ingots of extracted metal into space.
- Serious Paul
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Okay, saying that kind of made me sound like a douchebag. What I meant by that is, I have a very little group of people of who I would take bodily harm for. My brother, sister, father and one friend of mine. The rest, if in trouble, will have to come with some very good arguments.
Funny, yet sad. Kinda like getting tit-fucked by a clown.
- Ampere
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Me too. Honestly, that's always a risk. You never know who you'll end up facing any given day, or which day you're a half-second too slow and get your face mashed in.Heavy_D wrote:I can only commend 32 on his actions as he described them. I'd do the same, with the absolute risk of waking up in a hospital bed wondering what happened
I admit I'd be frustrated as hell about her response too. No means no, and the fucktards that keep reinforcing that "No means Maybe" are causing more hurt than helping.
Quoth Drunken Master:
"When Colin Powell walks out of your cabinet because of doctrinal issues, you've got problems."
Quoth Moto42:
"Bulldrek, where love and appreciation are accompanied by a volley of gunfire."
"When Colin Powell walks out of your cabinet because of doctrinal issues, you've got problems."
Quoth Moto42:
"Bulldrek, where love and appreciation are accompanied by a volley of gunfire."
I absolutely feel the same way. A lot of guys kind of walk around looking for chances to be someone's hero, but I'm really very selfish and misanthropic. And still, and still, it seems like every time I'm in a situation where I feel like someone really needs help, I end up helping them. Car crashes, lost dogs, dick boyfriends, whatever. So it might well be that you'd surprise yourself, too: there can be something essentially kind in even the most unlikely of persons.Tiny Deev wrote:Okay, saying that kind of made me sound like a douchebag. What I meant by that is, I have a very little group of people of who I would take bodily harm for.
- Jeff Hauze
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C'mon man, don't be down on yourself. There's no need to put these kind of lies and slander to your good name. Clearly, the name Abortion_Engine is nothing but hugs and puppies!3278 wrote:but I'm really very selfish and misanthropic
Screw liquid diamond. I want to be able to fling apartment building sized ingots of extracted metal into space.
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Every time I've been in a physical confrontation with someone else I've struck very fast before they've worked out there's a fight going on, or I've attacked from behind. I'm not one for a fair fight. I box, and that's different, and I do okay there, but it's certainly not the same thing.
So physical confrontations with me tend to go my way, but only because I cheat.
So physical confrontations with me tend to go my way, but only because I cheat.
I haven't been in a fight since high-school, and I don't remember any of them.
I do know that I never started any of them, never swung first, but ussualy finished them.
Apparently I black out when I actualy get to swinging. I'm told that I had to be pulled off of one guy I was slamming into a wall.
I do know that I never started any of them, never swung first, but ussualy finished them.
Apparently I black out when I actualy get to swinging. I'm told that I had to be pulled off of one guy I was slamming into a wall.
Hello, I'm a signature VIRUS!
Copy me to your signature to help me grow.
Copy me to your signature to help me grow.
Of course. I'm the baldheaded guy who get's his ass kicked. These were friendly sparring matches, so contact was light. I've hada couple of backyard boxing matches where the guys involved were trying to rock my head. One of'em did it. I've got a molar that's split in half due to that fight.DV8 wrote:I watched the first one? Is one of those two guys you, Bone?
The last real "fight" i was in was 2 years ago on halloween, when 8 or so black guys jump 2 girls and a guy at a party. I ran out to help them, and got my ass kicked. Broken/bruised ribs, busted face, etc.
Currently I avoid fighting, because I don't enjoy it. I talk alot of shit and I've got a rough demeanor. But I generally try not to provoke fights anymore, though I'm not afraid of them. I just don't want to do it.
I suspect that people who speak or write properly are up to no good, or homersexual, or both
I got in a fight the other day! We were play fighting, and all of a sudden he punched me in the face, non-play-fight style. Needless to say, I went all Patrick Bateman. (Is that a rain coat? Yes, it is!) and my friends had to pull me off him
Afterwards I asked him, what the hell man? And he said he had no idea, what happened, and we shook hands and got ourselves a crossaint at the supermarket. Really weird.
Afterwards I asked him, what the hell man? And he said he had no idea, what happened, and we shook hands and got ourselves a crossaint at the supermarket. Really weird.
Funny, yet sad. Kinda like getting tit-fucked by a clown.
- Jeff Hauze
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I was completely rooting for you...up until the crossaint, Pepe LePew.Tiny Deev wrote:I got in a fight the other day! We were play fighting, and all of a sudden he punched me in the face, non-play-fight style. Needless to say, I went all Patrick Bateman. (Is that a rain coat? Yes, it is!) and my friends had to pull me off him
Afterwards I asked him, what the hell man? And he said he had no idea, what happened, and we shook hands and got ourselves a crossaint at the supermarket. Really weird.
Screw liquid diamond. I want to be able to fling apartment building sized ingots of extracted metal into space.