TToML 23: What Goes Around Comes Around

Winter 2009. Living in Heritage Halls.

The story I am about to tell you does not bring me great pleasure. I shake my head at the immaturity we showed. But, I do believe that it is a story to share because it has a great lesson to it: Karma.

Somehow in addition to the towel popping freshman year, we had another way that we loved to inflict pain upon each other. This we called the Boob Punch. I think by the name it's pretty clear what was done.

I still wish I knew exactly how this started or why it was so amusing. Of course, it was only amusing if you were not the one who had just been punched. We had a general rule that this was a thing to be done in the privacy of our own apartment. Some penalty was supposed to ensue if done in public or when people were over.

We all had many times when we were the victim of this cruel doing, but there is one night in particular that I wanted to tell about.

This certain night a random assortment of our guy friends were over at our place and we decided to go to the park. As everyone was headed out of the apartment, I ran and grabbed a jacket. As I opened the front door to join everyone, Lindsay, out of nowhere, slugged me good and hard. And Lindsay's blow had not only hurt me like only a gifted woman could ever know, but it had knocked the wind right out of me. It's one of those moments that would have been priceless to have captured on film:

I collapsed to the ground, gasping for air and clutching my chest as my FHE brothers stood outside the door, their eyes and mouths open wide at what they had just witnessed, as the door slowly closed with me lying on the ground still inside.

It took me a good five minutes to recover. I think that is the only time in my entire life that I have had the wind sufficiently knocked out of me like that. At that time I only glared at Lindsay, vowing that somehow she would indeed pay.

And she did.

Later that very night, while we were at the park it happened. We were in the process of crossing a big stretch of grass and all the way from the other side of that field, I heard Marjorie's fist resoundingly make contact with its target, and as I turned to see the aftermath, Lindsay was lying on the ground, gasping for air.

Karma's a witch, isn't it Lindsay? Muahahaha!