Word Battles and the Results Thereof!

Ever get into a battle with someone, verbally? Of course you have!
What idiot has never argued with someone?

When I was a lot younger, maybe 4 or 5, I didn't know how to argue---but I was pretty good at screaming a lot, so I could get my way! I could scream so loud, it made glasses break and windows shake!

It also used to roust my 6 foot, 200 pound, gorilla daddy off his chair and cause him to suspend me by my heels, while he whacked my butt.
Needless to say, I learned, early on, that screaming brought on pain, rather than reward.
So I stopped screaming---but I hoped I could find a way of making him pay for his misdeeds!

Time passed--slowly as it usually does when you're a little twerp! By the time I was 8, I still hadn't figured out a way of payback! However, I was slowly gaining "word power", as my teacher put it. My vocabulary was increasing by leaps and bounds. I started reading classics--Kidnapped, Treasure Island, and Robinson Crusoe. I also learned new words at school.
One day, when I was instructed by my pappy to stop doing something he didn't want me to do, I decided I'd experiment by trying out some of the words on him that I'd learned at school, to see if I could change his attitude towards me. You know, make him treat me more like an adult?

As I hung by my heels, getting another sore butt, I vowed to get even with Leonard, my friend, for teaching me in an argument to say, "F*** you" which, in sheer shock value alone, stopped several arguments I had engaged in, but only caused my grunting gorilla of a father to exercise his palm again.

It took several days for my butt to return to normal, during which time I thought and thought of ways to get even with Leonard! Nothing! I couldn't think of any way of getting even. By now, I had postponed getting even with my father. At my young age, I had figured out he was just to much for me to handle and, until I was big enough, I'd just lull him into thinking I was a good little kid, to keep him from massaging my butt any more!

Now, Leonard and I were great white hunters.
We spent many a Saturday in the Durant woods behind our house, hunting rabbits, sparrows, rats---anything that crossed our path---with our BB guns! My pride and joy was my 500 shot Daisy Red Ryder BB gun.
Leonard had a nice looking gun, too, but it only fired one BB at a time. Every time he wanted to shoot something, he had to hand load it, first!

Well, here we were out in the woods and suddenly we came upon a wonderful target. Leonard asked me, "what is that?"
"Uhh," I said, thinking fast. "Darned if I know", which was a damned lie, because I'd had an experience with those critturs on my front porch just last week!
"It looks like a mud football," he said, musingly!
"Maybe it is," I agreed.
"We could use it for a football anyway, couldn't we?"
"Sure we could. All we have to do is get it down!"
"Well," says Leonard. "I can get it down!"
Laying his BB gun gently against a fallen log, Leonard picked up two of the biggest rocks he could find. Taking careful aim, he chunked the first rock at the hanging mud football. He missed!
I turned and started walking quickly away from Leonard.
He chunked another rock. THWACK! The rock hit the mud football and sixteen gazillion wasps came diving out of their home, motors going full blast. Leonard, assuming from their aggressive behavior they meant him harm, turned and started running towards me as fast as his little legs would carry him.
He didn't make it.
You could almost hear the ricochets off his head as the wasps nailed one ear, a cheek and several shots to the back of Leonard's head.
Worse yet, he was gaining on me and bringing that mob with him!
Now, wasps will chase you a considerable distance, but even they have their limits. Apparently, when they thought they had done enough damage to the intruder, they turned for home to inspect the damage he had wrought.
Gasping for air, I fell where I had stopped and, as Leonard approached, I couldn't stop laughing at the look on his face.
"F*** you," was Leonard's parting shot, as he headed for home.

It took Leonard two weeks before he'd even speak to me, which was OK, 'cause it took nearly that long before I could stop laughing about it!

We stayed good friends, though---but Leonard never taught me any more nasty words!