Haymakers: Part III

HAYMAKERS: PART III

Published by Will Berkeley

Copyright 2015 Will Berkeley

Chapter

So I am in the last stand Townie bar with my little family of offenses. We’ve successfully carried that forward a generation to tweak whatever is left of Old Hingham. All I needed were a couple of old time friends in that Townie bar and we could have had a good old fashioned brawl out in the parking lot. Get the blue lights on us.

Gumball time!

One of my old friends is particularly unreformed.

The Redheaded Devil himself.

The insane thing is he is retired. He dropped his bad boy act on the world and walked away winners. My wife was thankful that he wasn’t with us. He is forever moving back and forth from Zimbabwe. Causing ungodly troubles on two entire continents. The New York Police has to brace itself for his movements out of John F. Kennedy Airport. He is hauling major offenses. Paperwork is order, gents. Department of the Interior. I got my Zimbabwe passport if you want a peek at that too. I shaved a year off on that. I figure I am at least a year younger over there in my house in Bulawayo. Out in the bush? Mister Berkeley grants himself two! Shut up. I am at least two years younger in Zimbabwe in the bush

Who moves to Zimbabwe? The Redheaded Devil himself. Got a tag along too. Guess who? Most of Africa is just too fancy for him. Me to. Zimbabwe fits the bill though. That’s where he is during this scuffle. My wife is thankful for Zimbabwe for the first time in her life.

When I got the old time stares.

The Redheaded Devil would have walked right over and taken those grim looks right up with The Townies. What's your problem? Hasn't Berkeley paid enough? He's Honorary Class of Hingham High 1989 these days.

That is this kind of a funny story. It will tell you the character of my defenders. I went to the twenty-fifth reunion of the Hingham High Class of 1989. Apparently it's viewed favorably that I did not graduate from Hingham High Class of 1989 and it is the wrong class to begin with. I was point of fact fired from Hingham High Class of 1988. I actually pointed this flaw out on a thread and I was vehemently criticized. One gentleman noted that he was expelled. Who did I think I was not attending?

The Hingham High Class of 1988 had chased me out. No argument there! The Hingham High Class of 1989 had most certainly not. Whoa, whoa, guy! You back right up. They trotted out all kinds of physical evidence. Crime scene level evidence that I had patronized a few prominent female institutions over the years. I only dated her for like two (2) years! You cannot possibly claim that I was around town that much! So I went. It was actually really fun. Still married to Kelly! We finally got real married after our Hollywood shack job. The Booster needed married parents. Not bad, right?

Even my wife knew everybody! Kelly and I have only been attending weddings for Hingham people for like twenty years. Everybody is divorced these days! Revisiting the old haunts. Not us. I could be persuaded. You look good, girl. Stop looking at me that way. You are just too much. I will be in a trailer down The Gulch come sunset if I do not get out of here.

I was honored to be a non-graduate of the wrong class of one of the three high schools that I attended. They even took my wife in too. We like her better than you!

Congratulations Kelly Berkeley. You are Honorary Hingham High Class of 1989 too! I wish I dated her back in the old days. What a body! Just kidding. Don’t throw those wicked hostile eyes at me. You are decades off the Tae Kwon Do circuit. The Fat Man is dead too, right?

Hingham High Class of 1989 was hands down my favorite high school.

I didn't even have to show up. And my window of error is one year. I'm the Hingham High Class of 1988 which was the one with all the bad juju. But what's really weird is they do not want me. I am officially and irretrievably expelled out. I am fine with that too. I do not deserve to ever be recognized by the Hingham High Class of 1988. I will never accept anything from them.

However.

Hingham High Class of 1989 claimed me. They want the demon. My other two high schools could learn from this. You include the whole universe into your reunion scheme. Vacuum up whatever bad pennies you can get. Drive the spaceship right through God’s hand.

You have to give it a rest. Or we’ll rest it for you.

That would be The Redheaded Devil speaking on my behalf.

My other old friend if he were in Ye Old Mill Grille when I got the hometown stare down. That’s what he’d be saying too.

Don't take any gruff from that Sweaty.

That’s this really big local insult. We call our archrivals in Weymouth.

Sweaty.

You wouldn’t stand for that if you were a head like us growing up. Heads were the greasers. I worked on cars all the time. I loved it. We wear that greaser moniker proudly. Hey, at least we can fix stuff. Proud to be a dirtball. You Hoodsie Cups, the classic New England ice-cream treat, can only break stuff. Powder puff. Go grow a beard along with a pair. Move to Weymouth and then come back to us. Or get banished down Hull like Berkeley. We really do not care what town you are from. You sure as hell can be a Sweaty from Hingham. And a Hoodsie from Hull. Hey, it’s even possible to be a Cohop which is Cohasset cop from Weymouth. One big happy family. It just depends on if you can fix stuff. Marsh Vegas? Well, you can just forget that. Whatever happens there stays there. You go Dux if you want squealers. Scituate is tuff. The South Shore is a lot of fun. We are an entire country. Some of us have even lived in all the towns. A select few have been kicked out of several. Hull is overreacting. I have been banished from every bar. Personally I think it’s unfair. I didn’t even start a fight in the biker bar. That was Leddy. Why should I pay for the Parrot too? It’s not my fault that they did not have ice. All Leddy did was ask if they lost the recipe for ice? How is that inciting? Dive bars are way too uppity these days.

But my third friend if he were at Ye Old Mill Grille in this fictional construct would be the only one sitting there that had actually graduated from Hingham High School. La-di-da. A regular French man. That’s your Leddy. Real high class.

The Redheaded Devil and I were fired.

We're Honorary Members though.

The powers that be have blessed us in. It's really weird when you think about it though. I've got to be one of the worst people of my generation to go after in this town. There are only a few guys that are more dangerous than me and I jungled up with them somewhere in my journey through three high schools. It became this unholy thing.

I'd be sitting there at a party and somebody would ask me to leave. I'm like no problem. I'm used to get kicked out of places. It’s like that boss that won’t promote you. I just keep getting fired and climbing higher. It’s the only way for a guy like me to get promoted. I have to be fired! I want it to happen too.

I want to get into this bed up on Main Street anyway. I have a girlfriend in a house. Major progress, I know. I sleep in it too. After lights out before sunrise customer. Get in and get out unbeknownst. Mom and Dad don’t care for me so I stay out of their way. You should too.

A scheduled mission is on the books. That’s the only reason I am not throwing down right now. I don’t care about my retirement contract. Paperwork don’t mean nothing to me. I still can’t speak right. Why should I think right? Even her parents know that I am scurrying around that house like a mouse. Even they are like. Hey, the prisoner has majorly improved. His is in arguably one of the Nation’s most prominent all boy’s school. So what if it is a prison?

I won’t question the expulsion from the party. I have improved that much! I also don’t want to screw up my schedule. I am a regular for that house. This flower power girlfriend will absolutely dump me for fighting. She is just a plain old fashioned hippie. I have made major progress here people. However I will admit my old hometown problems are still a little bit fiery. Hey, I could move on this whole house if I wanted. I actually already have a draft written. Maybe I should do it?

Wait a second!

I’m just trying to keep the peace these days. I don’t even have to fight for girls these days. They come incoming peacefully. Flower Power. I might still kick a can out in the woods. Who knows? That is something that you just don’t want to know. Maybe The Fat Man lives. Karate Castle is still up Turkey Hill. Logic dictates that The Fat Man is up there lurking around. I have heard rumors.

Then this kid with massive hands would shove me down into my seat. One of those Italian kids out of the Gulch. One of my old dirtball pals. Harley Davidson dirtball type. We used to swim The Weir in March.

It ain’t that cold.

You got your own built in wetsuit. You’re so big. Look at me. I’m like a skeleton here.

You certainly don’t fight like one.

You get driven into that by earning black belt.

How many you got now?

I might have earned a few. You learn a few moves.

Yeah right.

Brutal cold water will always remain a test.

You want to really do this, Mister Berkeley?

I’m just jumping in with no hesitation.

Then I jump off the bridge down at Hingham District Court.

The kid jumps into The Weir right after me.

You're staying. You aren’t leaving no party over my dead body. That’s it. Case closed. That’s what the kid from The Gulch says. He has maybe ten friends just like him. They all move at the same time because they are probably sharing just one mind. They might not be the fastest crew of fighters. Or the brightest. But you can practice fighting them on stumps. Go ahead and try to pull that one out of the ground. I can take them one by one. But not even I can battle those stumps all at once without the benefit of weapons. There are too many of them.

Mister Berkeley ain’t getting kicked out. He didn’t start nothing. At least not yet. I reinstate him into the town. Mister Berkeley’s banishment is done. You come to me if you got a problem. I will solve it. His fists are maybe only twice as big as my own. They are about the size of the average person’s head. They had a magnetic way of connecting with them too. I used to hard pad up with the cage helmet and let a few of these very monsters throw at me with no caution back in the day. Four was my sparing limit. I would pay money to see anybody of any fight caliber take on five of them. And that was only the first string. Five more to go. Plenty of traditional boxing in that ten man and one brain operation. Solid sparing partners. Plenty of them too. Happy to go all day with you. No problem. Major Italian stallions with that horn necklace hanging around their necks. It’s to ward off bad luck. I’d say it works too.

The only remotely positive thing that came out of Jimmy's death was my reinstatement in the town. I'd been all but expelled. Moved to Hull. And shipped off to boarding school. I was fine with the situation but there was a ton of hostility still following me around. How the hell am I going to get a decent girlfriend down in Hull? I am only on my third high school. I got no girls in my final school. I am in a male prison camp up in North Korea! You got to at least allow the prisoner to socialize a little bit around holiday time down in South Korea. Girls don't hate me in this town. The Flower Power ones are deeply amused by me. Some of them actually love me. We are just monsters too. I even have a hippie girlfriend that will dump me without hesitation if I fight. It's just a few notable jerk guys that won’t let it go. They don’t even ride Harleys! All the bikers think I am terrific. We drink homemade wine and talk handguns. Ride motorcycles with no helmets in the woods. We share a deep interest in old fashioned New England hick culture. Rock n roll woods. We like harbor island parties too. We actually don’t get along well. We get along great! There is not one bad idea that we do not embrace.

Only a niche minority of the town truly has it out for me. A small handful of guys. Maybe one hand. I broke at least one finger off of that hand Fat Man style. The remaining four? I can take them all! I don't even need any help. I have sworn before God to maim them if they come after me again. They know I will do it too. They know how psycho religious I am. Even I am like you have to clean up your spiritual situation. It’s unholy. But then again. The stalemate is solid. That psycho Jesus position is perfect. Plenty of preachers approve. You have to work from where you are at, Mister Berkeley. You start in a pretty bad place, no offense. Hey, none taken I asked for your help. You don’t have to pull any punches. I know how bad I am. Without religion? I am in prison. Your science argument works great for you. I have to have God in my life even in my admittedly disturbing way.

I don’t want any new trouble. Period. End of discussion. But if those four come back one more time. There will be blood. Lots of it. I have told them all personally in front of their parents and the authorities. Not one person does not believe me. I have even threatened the