This is probably the best kind of vomit there is, unless any of you know how to vomit loan forgiveness and dinosaurs. Then those would be the best kinds of vomit. But I digress.
When I was four, I was really into Power Rangers. REALLY into Power Rangers. As much as I hate to admit it, the pink ranger was my hero. I even had a pink Power Ranger costume, complete with a plastic helmet, and I would wear it all the time, for absolutely no reason. I remember walking around the house in full Power Ranger gear, just in case I needed to kick Lord Zedd’s face in while I was drinking my Juicy Juice.
*Image by jenndubya via Listal
Sadly, I wasn’t allowed to wear the full costume to daycare, so I compromised by only wearing the shirt every single day.
I’m not sure how long this Power Ranger craze went on, but to this day my mom will talk about how she had to wash that shirt every day, because I was a messy child and I refused to wear anything else (my mom was awesome).
One day at daycare we were doing things with construction paper. I don’t remember exactly what, but it involved scissors and glue. I remember the scissors very well, because a boy named Sergio tried to cut me with them.
Sergio was a bully. He was always pushing other kids and calling them names and taking their toys. I remember that he annoyed me, but I wasn’t afraid of him.
He was sitting next to me at the art table, being his usual horrible self, and I was doing my best to ignore him. Kids like that don’t like being ignored. When I stood up from my chair, he reached out with the scissors and tried to cut me across my stomach. I took a step back, but he was so close to me that the scissors caught my shirt and left a horizontal gash across the middle.
I was a pretty laid back kid, but right then, I was furious. He cut my shirt. It didn’t even dawn on me that Sergio had tried to hurt me. He cut my shirt. It was ruined. I couldn’t be the pink power ranger anymore because he cut my shirt.
I’m pretty sure he got in trouble for that, but I don’t really remember what happened. I do remember my mom trying to console me later. She tried to sew the shirt, but it wasn’t the same. You could tell because the lines of the costume didn’t line up anymore.
And so my first grudge was born.
I never actually planned to get even. I’ve never been a vindictive person, even as a wrathful four-year-old. I don’t even think my behavior toward him changed. He was a brat and I tried to stay away from him, but now, instead of being mildly annoyed by his antics, I felt seething hatred whenever I looked at him.
Some time later, Sergio ended up next to me when we were lining up after lunch. I’m pretty sure he was picking on me, but I don’t remember exactly what he was saying. All I know is, it involved him putting his face really close to mine, and he had awful breath.
I remember being both shocked and disgusted by this. In all my four years of life, his breath was by far the worst thing I had ever smelled. I didn’t know people could smell so bad until that moment. It was revolting, and I started to gag.
He wouldn’t stop. I think I told him to move because his breath stank, which only made him harass me more. Suddenly, I couldn’t hold it down any more.
I realized that I was going to throw up about a split second before it happened. During that split second when I could have turned away, I just kind of shrugged, and threw up all over Sergio instead.
My mom says I was all smiles when she picked me up, but I wasn’t wearing the same clothes she had left me in. The teacher told her I had thrown up and when she asked me if I was ok, I said, “Sergio had bad breath and he breathed on me, so I threw up on him.”