The Birth of Violence

By Ronald Johnson

A note from Ronjon:
Most of this autobiography that you will read is meant for young people, that may not know what the right path in life is. This book shows them that the path I took, they definitely don’t want take that one. I’m sure that whoever is reading this introduction, knows someone; whether it be an relative, a friend or a friend of a friend that may benefit from my mistakes, and if that person needs a little kick in the butt, to show him or her, that life is precious, and not to waste it, sitting in some God forsaken jail cell somewhere, wondering if they will be alive at the end of the day. I was born in Roanoke, Virginia and raised in Washington D.C. and Prince Georges County, Maryland. This story is based on my life. No one ever thought I would make it this far, I have done more, than my fair share of drugs, hard-core partying, and not to mention, kicking much ass. Most of the names, times and places have been changed for obvious reasons. I slept on army cots most of my life, whether they were in my aunt’s basement laundry room, my cousin’s back porch way down in the boonies of Virginia, or whatever institution I was in at the time. I was in and out of institutions from the beginning of my early life. I guess I was hardheaded or at least as they say, “Hard to train,” or maybe it was because of someone else beside my family was raising me, who knows? In this story, you will read about why you should not abuse or neglect your children, and what happens if you do. You will read what a living hell is all about, and what evolves from having no control over your children and letting them basically run loose and raise themselves, because of no parental control, or love. When you read this story, you will sit back and probably say that there is no way that anybody in the world, has been through this much, in just a little bit of his of his life. This is the first time that I have decided to sit down, write and share my life with anyone, because for one thing, it is far from what I am proud of; believe this. I am ashamed, as well as embarrassed, but there is a message here! I really hope that some young guy or girl will read this, sit back and say, “No way man, I ain’t going through what that dude went through, it ain’t worth it, I am not going to screw my life up like that.” If these book’s change just one persons life; makes them see through my mistakes. Then writing this book was worth all of the hours, and bad memories that I have put into it and it won’t all be in vain. These events have often been so very painful to recall, nightmares if you will; that I have tried all of my life to forget. I continue this story with three other books, this book only reaches the first twenty-one, years of my life, hope it does something for you; it did me!
This will be a non-profit book, the profit will go to the Breast Cancer Foundation, and hopefully, it will save lives as well.
—Ronjon

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald Johnson
• Release date: May 6, 2010
• ISBN: 9781439212820

Ronald Johnson

A note from Ronjon:Most of this autobiography that you will read is meant for young people that may not know what the right path in life is, or which of those paths to take. This book shows them that the path I took, and if they have a lick of sense, they definitely don’t want to take the one I did. I’m sure that whoever is reading this introduction, knows someone; whether it be an relative, a friend or a friend of a friend, that may benefit from my mistakes, and if that person needs a little kick in the butt, to show him or her, that life is precious, and not to waste it, sitting in some God forsaken jail cell somewhere; wondering if they will be alive at the end of the day, or not.This story is based on my life. No one ever thought I would make it past the ripe old age of thirty. I have done more, than my fair share of drugs, hard-core partying, and not to mention, kicking much ass. Most of the names, times and places have been changed for obvious reasons. I slept on army cots most of my life, whether they were in my aunt’s basement laundry room, my cousin’s back porch way down in the boonies of Virginia, or whatever institution I was in at the time. I was in and out of institutions from the beginning of my early life. I guess I was hardheaded or at least as they say, “Hard to train,” or maybe it was because of someone else beside my family was raising me, who knows? In this story, you will read why you should not abuse or neglect your children, in any way, shape or form, and what evolves from it, if you do. You will read what a living hell is all about, and what happens from having no control over your children and letting them basically run loose and raise themselves. I would like to think that family values have not gone down the drain these days, because for one, it seems like there is no parental control, or love like it used to be. You see it every time you turn on the news, juvenile killing juvenile, juvenile kill’s classmates, juvenile kill’s parents and rest of family, or kills themselves. It seems that there is no end to it all, if anything, it’s getting worse. Come on, we can put a man on the moon, why can't we deal with the problems of our young. This is the first time that I have decided to sit down, write and share my life with anyone, because for one thing, it is far from what I am proud of; believe this. I am ashamed, but there is a message here! I really hope that some young guy or girl will read this, sit back and say, “No way man, I ain’t going through what that dude went through, it ain’t worth it, I am not going to mess my life up like that." If these book’s change just one persons life, keeps them from going to jail like I did; makes them see through my mistakes, so they will not make the same mistakes I did; then writing this book was worth all of the hours, and bad memories that I have had to endure while writing it, and it won’t all be in vain. These events I am surely not trying to glorify, I want someone to see the good times as well as the bad times and let them see that the bad times outweigh the good times, and there is no doubt about it! I continue this story with two to five more books. This book only reaches the first sixteen years of my life, hope it does something for you; it did me!

Book preview

The Birth of Violence

By Ronald Johnson at

Smashwords.com

[e-mail]

Copyright © 2008 Ronjon

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1-4392-1282-1

ISBN-13: 9781439212820

Table of Contents

Book # 1

Note from Ronjon, Read First

Review Book 2

Chapter 1 Growing Up

Chapter 2 Running Wild

Chapter 3 Boarding School

Chapter 4 The Farm

Chapter 5 Chopping Chicken Necks

Chapter 6 The Fire

Chapter 7 Broken Bones

Chapter 8 Lots of Blood

Chapter 9 More Torture

Chapter 10 Out of the Pan into the Fire

Chapter 11 Bad Habits

Chapter 12 Buck Lodge

Chapter 13 Good Girls Bad Girls

Chapter 14 The Sewers

Chapter 15 Lock Raven

Chapter 16 The Hunt

Chapter 17 My First Gun

Chapter 18 Going to Church

Chapter 19 Vengeance is Mine

Chapter 20 Going Back To Lock Raven

To Patt

Chapter 1

Growing Up

In the early forties my mother and father decided to have a child; actually it was my mother’s idea. She hoped, and she prayed, that if they had a child, it would make their relationship better, patch it up, so to speak. Little did she know, there was one little thing holding this up; she could not have children. The doctors told her the only way that she could have children, was to have an operation to make it possible. This presented a slight problem: as she hated hospitals, and she hated doctors more, not to mention she definitely did not trust them one little bit. She would just have to put her fears aside, if she wanted have a child, and try to save her marriage with my father. Their marriage was sliding downhill fast, and my mother would have done whatever it took to save the marriage, as she loved this man dearly. She was in her forties, a short small framed woman, about five foot two, and thin, light blue eyes, long wavy reddish brown hair and had a passion for dancing to country music. She was very laid back, and easy to get along with. I looked at pictures of her back then, and she could have found someone that would have loved and taken care of her with no problems, but I guess the love she had for my father, was just too strong. I wish I could describe my father, but like so many other kids now days, I never saw him, other than in some pictures, so other than being in the Armed Forces, and being a big man, I don’t have a clue as to who he was, or what he was all about, and this is very sad, as young people need a father figure in their lives! This is the problem that incarcerates so many of our young children; because of no family structure, nobody to put a foot in their but when they screw up, nobody to go to for love and guidance. Yeah I know, don’t beat the kids, but in some cases, a boot in the butt may keep a kid from entering the system, which most live their lives in, or until they are eliminated, and end up in an unmarked grave. I’ve so many say, Hey, when I’m dead, I’m dead, nobody cares!

Back in those days, dissolving a marriage was not on peoples’ list of most favorite things to do. Most people took their marriages very seriously; when they got married, they stayed married, for better or worse. Sure, times were tough, but people made the best of it, they made it work, one-way or another, like it or not! They did not run to see a lawyer every time that they got into an argument, or ran out of money. Some made it work, some did not; I guess my father was one of those who did not. My mother did have the operation, which was successful, and finally did become pregnant with me. She just knew that this would do the trick. She knew this would make my father very happy, and hopefully save their down sliding marriage. At certain scattered moments, no how much you wished and prayed, when things are not meant to be, that was the way they were and you can’t change them, no what you do. What people did realize was, when you got pregnant, you got pregnant, and there was no taking it back; not like now days, where you can take a pill and make it go away, back then you were stuck. Sure there were some folks who fell out of love, but they stayed together for the sake of their children; after all, why make the children suffer for something that wasn’t their fault, for a bad decision their parents made?

I had relatives like that, they liked one another, they just did not love one another anymore. My Aunt Lee and Uncle Mel owned a motel in northern Virginia; I loved them both very much, even though they always smelled like booze, they made me happy, and there wasn’t much happy in my life. If I had a father, I would want him to be just like my Uncle Mel. My Uncle was a big man, in his forties, probably six foot four, over two hundred pounds, full head of hair, and always laughing; my Aunt Lee was of normal stature, around forty something, brown hair, blue eyes and she always had a cocktail in her hand, and a smile on her pretty face. I always got a big hug and a kiss when I saw her; one of the nicest relatives that I can remember.

My Uncle used to rub his prickly beard on my neck and cheek every time that he saw me; he would also pull my diapers down whenever I came into a room full of people; he knew I hated that, and that’s why he did it. He got a big kick out of it and so did everyone else in the room…except me. Even though I did not like having my diapers pulled down, I loved my Uncle Mel very much. He made me laugh and brought happiness into my life. I looked forward to seeing him when he came for a visit, for he would make me smile and laugh. Uncle Mel and Aunt Lee would always get hammered at parties and other family events; maybe this is what kept them together. They had a Great Dame named Matilda that used to sneak up on me and stick her head between my legs, pick me up and run across the yard with me on her neck, until I fell off. Then she would lick me with this giant wet tongue, getting me all wet and slobbery. You definitely did not want to be in the same room with her after she ate, and if you were, you were not there for very long.

As ironic as it may sound, family took care of family back then. They helped one

another when they needed it, and no one had to ask. Whenever someone got too ill to go to work, the family was there to help, no matter what. If a family member got into a financial bind, the rest of the family was there to help in whatever way they could. This is when family used to be family...too bad it is not like that anymore, or is it? This is what I was raised to believe, but as I shed my diapers, and grew tall enough to look everyone in their eyes, I found out that this was just a load of crap that was fed into my brain, one of the first lies, amongst many, that I was supposed to believe as I sprouted. Now days, the main foundation of the family structure was built on greed, not love, not help, just to see what you can get out of someone. Everybody always has their hand out, trying to get money out of someone that didn’t have it, one way or another, and I’m pretty sure it’s still that way.

However, I can remember when one of the relatives down in Virginia became sick, and could not run his farm from his sick bed. All the relatives all around the county would come to his aid. They would take care of all the chores and whatever else that needed to be done, to keep things going. They brought food from their farms, and fed his family and the animals. This all made for a very long day, as they had their own farms to take care of as well, and you know what? You never heard anyone complain, as these people looked after one another, and they knew that it could be one of them laid up sick, and they needed help from the family. This is what you call, family. Now days, when you get sick and bed ridden, and have relative’s come to help you out, until you could do for yourself; they usually take your drugs, rob you blind as soon as you fell asleep. I think they call this evolution, and it is a damn shame that we forgot what family was all about, and we replaced family values with shame, sex, money, drugs and disgust.

My mother could not make it down in Roanoke. (That is in Southwest Virginia.) They just did not pay enough money to live on down there. We had relatives that lived in Washington D.C.; the relatives told her that if she wanted to get a good government job to give them a call, and so she did. She called and talked to my Uncle Sam, (not the one you’re thinking about.)

He told her, There are plenty of good government jobs standing ready for anybody that meets the requirements for them, and is willing to work.

This is just what my mother was looking for. It was right up her alley. She could make ten times more money in D.C. than she could make in Roanoke.

Uncle Sam told her: "You can stay with us until you get on your feet, and get your

own place!"

It was not long before we were stepping off the train in Union Station, Washington D.C. We did not drive because my mother did not know how; as a matter of fact, she never learned how to drive, which meant we did a lot of walking, as well as a lot of cab and bus ridding, but you got to do what you have got to do! Aunt Yee and Uncle Sam met us at the train station. Aunt Yee was a short hefty dark skinned heavyset woman, with short black hair a little black mustache; with a look on her face that said, don’t mess with me, or you will regret it, and this I came to know only too well. Uncle Sam was a tall thin man with light red thinning hair, blue eyes that hid behind thin gold rimmed glasses. He had a well-kept mustache, and so it should be, as he was a barber, which meant, I always kept a crew cut/buzz cut. He never said too much; he was a ‘yes’ ma’am kind of guy; Aunt Yee did all the talking and wore the pants in the family, I think she was of Greek descent and maybe she was raised that way, who knows. They had two children, actually one child, and one little monster named Charley, whom was taller and heavier than myself, about three years older than I, blond hair, blue eyes, and spiteful as hell, and hell just where he belonged. He got to wear his hair long, whereas the kid in the basement always got a buzz cut, which I hated, because I had big ears and I looked like a cab going down the road, with the doors opened. There was Betsy Lee; Betsy Lee was three years older than Charley and was older than me. She was tall with long wavy blond hair, big beautiful blue eyes, nice shape and a sort of light tented skin, not as dark as her mother, just enough to make her a beautiful girl. Betsy Lee was like a sister to me. She kept good old Charley off my back, as much as she could anyway. As time went on, I would come to hate Charley with a passion. He acted like a big Pit-bull that had its territory violated, and he just flat out did not want us there, and he showed it every chance that he got, plus some. This guy was one of the first of many installments of hate which helped turn me into the man I became, the man that I hated to say that I was.

Like I stated before, You are not born bad!

There was always a lot of animosity between Charley and myself, to say the very least. I guess, as we got a little older, he could not deal with the natural instance of interacting with us; I really do not know why he was a butthead, and treated us like he did. What I do know is he should get down on his knees every stinking day of his miserable life, and give thanks to God, that I never got the opportunity to get my hands on him after I grew up.

I asked his mother constantly, Where is Charley living, where is he at now?

She was very far from stupid, and I think she knew why I wanted to find him. Charley was three older and much bigger than me; this is why he always used his pressure tactics to make me do things that I did not want to do; just another Bully that needed to be put in his place! This jerk made my life a living hell, and you had better believe it. (I have not forgotten him, to this very day) This was a helluva relationship we had, and what I think gave birth to all the anger, violence, and revenge that stayed with me throughout my entire life. This got me into a rut that I had a very hard time getting out of; throughout my whole life. Betsy Lee was older than Charley and if he did not do what she asked him, she would pop him up-side his head. Aunt Yee used to get on him for picking on me, but after a while it just did not seem to matter anymore; this just gave him more resentment towards me, and made him even madder at me. The madder that he got, the more hell he would inflict on me, which brought out the worst in me, made me mean.

Well I can’t say that good old Charley did not ever teach me anything, because he did; he taught me how to hate, and how to get even, and he taught me damn well. I go by an old saying, ‘What goes around comes around, you meet the same people going up as you do coming down.’ He can be damn glad that our paths never crossed again, as I dreamt about meeting up with him once more, one final time! Oh yes, I hated him with a passion, and would have put a bullet in that punks head, and not given it a second thought; believe this.

Aunt Yee, like a lot of my relatives collected very old and very expensive antiques; they were throughout the whole house. She had so many that she would make everyone go down to the rec. room, which was in the basement, so that her antiques were not broken or damaged. One day I came home from school, I was tired so I lay my head in my arms, on the dining room table, where I usually did my homework. This was one of Aunt Yee’s favorite antiques. A very long, beautifully hand carved table, with ten chairs, which was big enough to seat the whole family at Christmas, or other occasions. Charley suck up behind me as I sat at the table, grabbed my ears, lifted my head up, and slammed my face into the surface of the table. My front teeth were first to hit the table; cracking my front tooth, also putting a helluva gash in Aunt Yee’s favorite antique table. The first thing I did, I looked down at the indentation on the table, wiggled my tooth, and knew right away that there was going to be hell to pay when Aunt Yee saw the damage that was done to her most liked antique, not to mention my tooth. She would surely see the damage, and there was no doubt about it, as she was constantly cleaning and waxing it. That was the first of two things that got me a whipping that day.

I tasted blood; no other taste like it, so I grabbed my front tooth and wiggled it to see if it was lose. It was and it made me go off; I jumped up from the table, looked at Charley and he knew that I was pissed, and took off, and I took off after him. He had set me up beautifully, and I fell right into it, as usual. The hall, kitchen, dining room, and living room are all connected together, so that you can run in a circle through all four rooms without stopping. I was starting to catch up to him in the dining room. He saw me getting close and reached up on the buffet, and pushed one of Aunt Yee’s favorite antique gold trimmed cup, and saucer to the floor. It broke into a million pieces.

This made me come to a screeching halt. I stood there with my eyes wide opened, and mouth wide open. I looked at Charley, then at the cup and saucer on the floor, a smile came over my face, as I said, You are in big, big trouble now Charley, and I was glad about it, happy if you will, as I knew good ole Charley was going to get his butt kicked by Aunt Yee, for breaking Aunt Yee’s cup and saucer.

Charley looked at me and said, What do you mean? I did not break it, you did and you are the one that’s in big trouble, not me, Ha, Ha, Ha!

I told him, You broke it, not me, Aunt Yee won’t believe you.

He replied, We will see, we will see!

About that time, I heard the unmistakable sound of Aunt Yee coming down from upstairs; she was a good size woman, you could tell it was her from the sound of the steps, creaking from her weight when her feet hit the wooded steps. When she gave you a spanking, you knew that you had gotten a spanking, because she had the weight to put behind it, and she had no qualms about using it, on me mostly. When she reached the dining room I thought her eyes were going to pop right out of her head. She looked down at the floor; saw that her cup and saucer were broken to beat hell. Charley was standing there looking all innocent and everything, as usual.

Right away; with her hands on her oversize hips, she looked down at me, like a vulture getting ready to swoop down on its pray, and asked, Who broke my cup and saucer?

She may as well said, Why did you break my cup and saucer Ronnie? Drop you britches and bend over, you are getting another whipping!

Charley was the first to speak, and of course, he said, He broke it!

I looked at her and said, Charley is the one who broke it, not me, he is lying.

Aunt Yee looked at me and said, If Charley broke it he would say so. That is the way he was raised. and that was the end of that. That’s the way that it usually ended, me getting set up and getting a good beating for something I didn’t do, and Charley getting a good laugh at my expense. Once more, I got a whipping for something that I did not do, not to mention getting a cracked tooth to go along with it. Now I knew what, You will see, meant. If I could not count on anything, I could count on good ole Charley to tell me about, (His!) room and all that things that, (He!) had, and I did not. He thought that this was funny; when he was bored, this was his form of entertainment. He would do this just about every day, and he would also throw in, You and your mother don’t belong here, so why don’t you leave, why are you still here? GET OUT!

At first this use to get under my skin; after a while it was like water rolling off of a duck’s back...as I had become hardened. This really pissed him off, as his bullying was not working anymore and he could not understand why? One thing is for sure Charley never let up on me, not for one minute; he was damn determined to ride me until the very minute we left hell house. My mother never said one word to my Aunt Yee about the way that Charley treated me, or anything else, as she was too laid-back, not wanting to make any waves, not to confront anyone that had done anything to me. Aunt Yee was the one running the show, and my mother just kept her mouth shut, and did what she said to do, as that was her laid back nature, just like a robot. When Charley wanted to be cute he would ask, Where is your bed, where is your room, what do you have, and when are you and your mother going to leave?

There were only three bedrooms in the house, so my mother and I had to sleep in the basement. My mother slept on this little couch; I slept on an army cot in the laundry room. Sometimes, they would stay up late watching TV. I had to go to bed early, so they put up a curtain, so that they would not bother me when I was put to bed, yeah right! This made it very hard to sleep. I remember my surroundings to this day. There were two big gray square cement sinks, a great big round washing machine with a roller ringer on top, and a large hot water heater that would scare the hell out of me whenever it came on, it made one helluva noise, and it lit up the whole area around me, like a bomb went off, and I can remember that noise to this very day.

As time went on, I never became use to it. When I finally did get to sleep, I would have this recurring nightmare, at least four or more times a week. It was the same nightmare every night that I had a night mare. I would be at the bottom of this long curtain or drape; I would be running to beat all hell, in and out of the ruffles that were swaying down by the floor. There was this giant foot trying to step on me, and squish me. No matter how fast I ran, I could not get away from it, and my breath was declining. I would look up and behind me; this giant sole would be coming down above me and right before it squished me like a bug, I would wake up screaming, crying and out of breath. Everybody tried to figure out why I was having these nightmares, but they could not and I was too young to figure it out myself. I thought about this nightmare until I was in my forties, then one day right out of the blue, it came to me, the nightmare originated from sleeping in that damn little laundry room, and watching the bottom of the curtain before falling asleep. When someone would walk by, the curtain would move in and out, all I could see was the light coming in and someone’s shoe in the ruffles; this is what I saw before falling asleep. This is what tormented me for so many years to come.

Time marched on; my mother saved as much money as she could but after paying Aunt Yee the room and board, there was not much left to put aside for an apartment. Things were getting worse as the days went on. Charley was really getting good at setting me up, which meant that I was getting my ass kicked on a regular basis; all that I wanted to do was get even. One day I saw an opportunity that I could not pass up. Aunt Yee used to collect all of the milk money for the month from my school, and deposit it in the bank; she had just finished counting it and stuffed it into a manila envelope. It was packed with money; more money than I had ever seen before. I watched where she put it, and decided that it was payback time; time to get beat for something I actually did! As they say, The Devil made me do it!

The next morning before going to school, I went into the dining room, looked around, and walked very quietly over to the buffet, looked around to make sure no one was watching; opened the door, and looked at all the money that was in the envelope. I thought for a minute, should I take it, or not, should I do this, or not? I came to the conclusion that I was always getting beat for something that I did not do, so I might as well get beat for something that I really did do, and yes, I did take the money, and I do believe they call it revenge, or as I call it, ‘Get back.’ I took it straight to the playground at school, and gave every damn cent away; I loved the feeling that it gave me. I knew that there was going to be hell to pay when I got caught, and I would get one helluva whipping, but you know what, I did not care. This was the first time that I tasted the sweet taste of Revenge, and somehow in my young life, I knew that it would not be the last, as it tasted too good! After giving all the money away, which was not easy; some of the kids just would not take it. Some I had to talk into taking it. Later that day I was sitting in my classroom feeling very smug, when the Vice Principal walked into the classroom. He walked over to the teacher’s desk and had a word with him, and asked if he could borrow me for a few minutes.

My teacher turned to me and said, Ronnie, the Vice Principal wants to talk to you.

My heart started beating very hard; I knew I really screwed up this time, but this is what they got. I went to the front of the classroom, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, Let’s go; the Principal wants to see you.

To the office we went. When we got there, he took me into this office and sat me down in a chair by the Principals desk. He left, went into another office where the Principal was standing. They both looked at me and started talking. I could not hear what they were saying through the glass, but I knew that they were talking about me. The Principal walked into his office, shut the door, went to his chair and sat down. For a few minutes, he did not say a word. He just sat there with a fixed look on me, which made me feel very uncomfortable.

He then looked up at me and said, There were quite a few students that came into the office and gave me money, money they said you gave them out in the playground this morning; it was quite a bit of money. There was a moment silence.

He then asked, Did you give them this money?

I had not learned how to lie that good yet, so I said, Yes I gave them all that money and I don’t have a cent left.

He leaned back in his chair, locked his hands behind his head and asked, Where did you get that money from Ronnie?

I replied, I don’t know.

Then he stood up, went over to the file cabinet and pulled my file out.

He asked, You live with your Aunt; I know her very well.

I replied, Yes I do, but please don’t call her, I’ll get another whipping.

Now days, that would have raised a red flag, back then it was healthy to get a whipping. The Principal looked at me and said, Somebody is going to tell me where this money came from and I think that it will be your aunt.

Then he went into the other room and made a phone call. I could not hear what he was saying, but I knew that it was not good. About an hour later, in stomped Aunt Yee and boy was she smoking mad; she was hot enough to cook an egg on top of her head. She did not say a word to me; she just gave me a glare that I would find hard to ever forget, I knew that I was going to pay when I got home, and there was no doubt about it!

He told her about the story I told him, about not knowing where the money came from. She walked over to where the Principal was standing and said, I know where the money came from, don’t I Ronnie?

I did not know what to say other than, Yes ma’am.

She looked at me with fire in her eyes, and I knew that I was in for one helluva of

whipping when I got home, and you know I didn’t really care, as she couldn’t whip me any worse than she had already whipped me before, and I had gotten use to it. However there were some coming, which I would never get use to.

She looked at me and said; I’ll see you, when you get home.

I just knew that I wasn’t going to enjoy what she had in mind for me. Needless to say, I took my time getting home, as I knew what was in store for me when I got there.

When I did get there, all Aunt Yee said was, Go down to the basement and wait for your Uncle Sam to get home; he’s going to have a little talk with you, one you won’t soon forget!

I thought to myself as I walked down to the basement, ‘had I gone too far? Uncle Sam had never laid a finger on me; much less beat me, he never even raised his voice to me,’ and this worried me. I went to my army cot, lay down and waited for Uncle Sam. About two hours later, I heard the basement door open, my heart jumped into my throat. Down the steps came Uncle Sam and he had one big belt in his hand; my heart started to pound and I thought, ‘this is not good. Aunt Yee never used a belt on me; she started out using a fly swatter. That did not last very long, as I would not hold still long enough for her to hit me. She fixed that little problem; she got a Ping-Pong paddle; it was easier to hit me with. Uncle Sam was a laid-back barber. Aunt Yee was the one who dished out the discipline; so I knew that I was in big trouble when she sent my Uncle down to whip me.

He walked over to my cot, sat down beside of me and said, Ronnie you know that I don’t like having to do this, I have never had to lay a hand on you, but you have to learn right from wrong, and pay when you mess up, especially stealing. I know we have taught you better. I just don’t know what has gotten into you lately boy.

He told me, Take down your pants and bend over my lap; this is going to hurt just a bit.

I thought, I had never been whipped like this before, and I was not looking forward to it. I slowly slid my pants down to my ankles and bent over his lap, not liking it one bit. I said to myself, ‘he doesn’t have to whip me to make me see what I did was wrong, I knew it was wrong; but deep down inside of me I knew that it was right!’ Uncle Sam whipped me for a long time; I did not think he was ever going to stop.

When he finally did stop, I just laid there on my cot, shaking with tears streaming down my face. The sadness that I was feeling was overwhelming. I was all-alone in the semi-dark basement. Where was my mother? I needed her badly.

I lay there until the burning on my butt and the back of my legs became less intense. If this little experience was not unfavorable enough, here comes good ole Charley.

He was jumping up and down, saying, You got beat with a belt, you little bastard, Ha! Ha! Ha! You got a whipping!

I didn’t know what a bastard was; I just knew that it wasn’t good if it was coming out of Charley’s mouth and I really didn’t care. I just lay there while Charley had his fun; I’m thinking, ‘one day I’ll get you back, and we will see who the bastard is then, this I promise you; if it takes me the rest of my life, I’ll get you back.’ Little did I know opportunity knocked on the door the very next day, and a very good day it was!

Walking home from school the next day with my friend Jake, I took a different route. I did not take the alley as usual because he lived across New Hampshire Ave. so I walked him to the coroner that was down the street from where I lived.

I walked Jake to the corner and told him, I’ll see you tomorrow, and walked up the street to go home. About halfway up the street, I heard someone screaming, yelling and crying. The closer that I got to home, the louder it became. When I reached the first steps to the house, I could see where the screams were coming from. Right away, a huge grin came to my face, just like it was an early Christmas, the best Christmas I ever had.

We lived in N.W. Washington, D.C.; Most of the houses are row houses, which were connected together, except the front porches they have a space between them. Well, there was good old Charley; it looked like he was standing between the two porches with a foot on each porch railing, he must have lost his balance and fell between the porches. This left him hanging upside down; spread-eagle, red as beet, bleeding and best of all, his feet were stuck in both porch railings so he could not get down, or back up. His feet were twisted backwards; it looked really weird, like he had put his shoes on backwards. There was at least a six-foot drop from where his feet were stuck, to the ground. There was nothing that he could grab, and pull himself back up with. He was screaming to beat all hell and I loved every bit of what I was seeing. He stopped crying when he saw me, he started begging me to go get his mother. He was yelling, GO GET MY MOTHER! GO GET MY MOTHER, PLEASE!

I just stood there laughing my head off, pointing my finger at him and saying, You dummy! Does it hurt? How does it feel? I told you that one day I would get you back, do you remember? Now I am, HA! HA! HA! Not so tough now, ARE YOU, REMEMBER CRACKING MY TOOTH CHARLEY?

This was better than any Christmas that I ever had, and probably better than any Christmas I’ll ever have, and I was loving it. This is what a sick puppy, this jerk had turned me into, and now I can reap the rewards! This made my day, it made all of the bullshit I had been taking from him all of this time, worth it, a million times over! He continued to beg me to go get his mother. This was a desperation plea, as he knew that he could not get down without my help, he realized that without me, he was stuck there until all of his blood ran out of his body, and by the looks of the puddle of blood below him, and the blood that had splattered all over the place, he didn’t have much left, he he he!

He then said, I’ll leave you alone from now on, I swear; just go get my mother, PLEASE GO GET HER, PLEASE, PLEASE!

I am thinking, ‘Sure you will.’ I wouldn’t believe anything that came out of his mouth. What I was really thinking about was kicking him in his stinking bloody face, until his lips no longer moved. He was very lucky that Aunt Yee had put the fear of meeting God in me, or I would have, and loved every minute of it. I was enjoying this just a little bit too much, and I knew it; I had my fun with the jerk and I had the deliciously sweet taste of revenge on my lips, and how sweet it did taste! It was a taste that I would never forget, and I would taste it many more times in my life to come. As much as I hated to do it, I had to go and get Aunt Yee, or else I would get another whipping for not doing so. I really just wanted to leave him hanging there upside down until all of his blood bled out of his stinking body.

Before going into the house I could not resist, so asked him one more time, Are you sure that you are going to leave me alone, from now on?

He replied, YES! YES! JUST PLEASE GET MY MOTHER!

I started to go in the house when I decided to get one more shot in. I could not resist. I walked over to the railing and looked down at Charley hanging there upside down, helpless and bleeding.

I asked him once more, You sure that you can’t get down by yourself?

He yelled back at me, GET MY MOTHER! PLEASE!

I slowly opened the front door and walked into the house using as little speed as possible. The glass storm door and front door were both closed; this is probably why no one in the house heard him screaming. I closed the storm door and left the front door opened, which would prove to be a mistake.

Once inside the house I hollered, Aunt Yee, Charley wants you.

She replied, "I’m down in the basement doing laundry; tell him that I’ll be up in a

minute."

She did not know that Charley was hanging upside down out front. I slowly walked down the basement steps and walked over to where Aunt Yee was doing the laundry and smiled at her.

I told her in a calm tone, not in an anxious one, Charley wants you.

She said, Tell him that I’m not going to drop everything and go see what he wants. Tell him that I’ll be there in a little while, when I get time.

Well I did what I told Charley I would do; this is working out better than I thought; now I can’t wait go tell Charley. When I got to the top of the stairs, I heard Betsy Lee screaming for Aunt Yee to come upstairs quickly, and then to my disappointment I knew that the jig was up. She must have heard Charley screaming to beat all hell; I guess I should have closed the front door so that no one could hear him screaming, oh well. Aunt Yee heard Betsy Lee screaming for her, I heard her running up the basement stairs and down the hallway to the front door. When she got out on the front porch, she saw Betsy Lee trying to hold Charley up, as he was turning a nice shade of purple. She just was not strong enough, too bad. I was liking this a bit too much. I guess that I should have been feeling bad for Good old Charley, but I wasn’t, as a matter of fact, I was enjoying the hell out of it and yes, it did make me feel real damn good and I could do it a thousand more times, as he deserved every bit of it, and it could not happen to a nicer person. As they were trying to get him down, they realized that they alone were not going to get him down because his feet were stuck in the railings. Aunt Yee screamed at me to go get the next door neighbor. Charley was bleeding all over the place, screaming, crying, and begging them to get him down. I was thinking, you got just what you deserved, and you are the little bastard now! Ha! Ha! Ha! I told you that one-day I would get even. After getting the neighbor to help free good old Charley and get him down, they tried to get him to stand up and walk, but they couldn’t as both of Charles’s ankles were broken; Poor Charley.

Another few words for the file, (SATISFACTION OF THE BEST KIND)

Aunt Yee told Betsy Lee to call for an ambulance. This was Washington D.C. and nothing moved fast. By the time the ambulance got there, Charles’s ankles were swollen to five times the size that they should have been. They put him on the gurney and rolled him away, as I smiled and I said under my breath, Good riddance’s to you bastard, and went back into the house and down to the basement, got on my cot, gloated and laid back. I felt extremely fulfilled and waited for patiently my whipping, the one that would be worth getting. The next day Charley came home; the doctor told him to keep off of his feet for a week, after that he would be on crutches. The following day I was walking home from school and decided to take the alleyway home. I hated taking this way but it was a lot shorter, and this is the way that Aunt Yee told me to come home. There was a jerk that lives about eight houses down from us and I had to pass his house in order to get home. He was almost as bad as Charley, only difference being, I don’t have to live with him every day like I do with Charley. This guy is a lot older and much bigger than I was, but just another bully just the same, who is waiting to get his. Speak of the devil; there he is now, just my luck; I could count on it like night and day. He was leaning up against the back of his garage with one foot on the garage and staring straight at me. On many occasions he would repeatedly harass me by knocking my books out of my arms, scattering my school papers all over the alley, giving me a bunch of verbal crap and using me for a punching bag.

Well, I am here now, so I might as well get it over with. It is going to be another bad day; I can feel it in the air. Sure enough, he started in on me right away as he always did.

He asked, What are you doing you little shit? I thought that I told you this is my alley, and you can’t walk in it.

I replied, I have to use the alley to get home, my Aunt said so, if I don’t she gets mad.

He said, I told you that if I caught you in my alley again, I was going to kick your little ass, you little shit and I don’t care what your aunt told you, bring her down here and I’ll kick her ass to!

I told him, Please leave me alone, I’m not bothering you, just let me go home before I get into trouble!

I thought it best to keep my mouth shut so as not to provoke this idiot, and kept walking, this did not work. He ran over to me and punched me right in the stomach knocking the wind out of me; knocking my books to the ground, my papers were flying everywhere. Then came the pushing and shoving, he pushed me and for once, I pushed him back and this really shocked him, as well it pissed him off, I had never done this to him before. He put his hand in my face and pushed me to the ground, then reached down and grabbed my fur collar on my new coat, and said, What’s this crap? Then he jerked it, and just about ripped completely off of my new coat. My mother had just bought me this coat as I had worn the other one completely out, it was no good to anyone; it was the only coat that I had.

It gets very cold in Washington, D.C, so you need a nice coat to keep you warm, or you’ll freeze to death. This was a nice heavy coat with a big fur collar. It cost my mother a lot of money, money that she really did not have. She told me that I had better make it last, it would be a while before I would get another one. I did not get many new clothes, as my mother was saving money so that we could move out of hell house and into our own apartment, away from good old Charley. After paying Aunt Yee room and board, she hardly had anything left over. She even had to put the coat on a lay-away plan the previous winter before last. I reached up, grabbed the collar, and felt how bad he had ripped it; he had just about ripped it completely off of the coat. I went into a rage, I just lost it; I lost control of myself like never before. Next thing that I knew, I jumped to my feet and went for him. I had him around his waist, (like a tackle) and started pushing for all that I was worth, which moved him back about twenty feet; until he lost his balance and fell backwards, landing on his back and hitting his head on the concrete alley. I jumped on him like stink on shit, sat on his stomach, grabbed him by his ears and started slamming his head on the concrete alley, time after time; I was in such a rage I could not stop. There was blood everywhere; I guess his mother heard him yelling for help, before he went unconscious.

She came running out of their back yard with her hair up in cloth rollers, and wearing something like a nightgown, screaming Get off of him, get off him, get off of my son, what are you doing? Get off of my son! Stop you are going to kill him, WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? STOP! STOP!

She grabbed me by my chin and the back of my head and pulled me up from her son. Then she jerked me off of him altogether, lifted him up; picked up his unconscious head, and cradled him in her arms. She was screaming at me when I finally came to my senses.