Yeah, I got hit by the pizza man. Nope, not like punched, and no, not like in a fender bender. I was on foot, and he was in the car. Yeah, that kind of hit.

I remember it as if it were a meal ago.

High school. Year: Freshman. Class: Gym. Sport: Tennis.

This is how the deal went down...

Class started off pretty normal, which is to say, shitty. Frau Williams lined us all up at the side of the tennis courts and explained the incredibly complicated rules of tennis to us. Again. Then she goes to demonstrating something, and I'm not really paying attention. I'm holding my racket up to my face and looking through the mesh, studying the way the fine plastic lines divide up the world, and how they disappear when I move the racket from side to side, and how it makes a cool noise if I blow in it when I do that, and... OW! My friend Josh walks up and hits the racket, knocking it into my face. Why? Because he is a sneaky bastard, and malicious to boot.

Eventually, we worked our miserable way onto the tennis courts. It had rained recently and the ground was rather wet. Now, some physical activities I can do well. Hitting small objects in motion has never been one of them. This pretty well ruled out all the high school sports for me. Tennis included. Josh and I are playing Lorri and Kelly. A couple of hottie cheerleaders whose combined IQ would make a damn good percentile ranking on the GRE, I'm sure. Anyway, one of them hits the ball in my general direction. I run forward to hit it, and slip, on something, I don't know what. Anyway, as I fall onto my ass, the tennis ball catches me right in the adam's apple. Talk about adding injury to injury.

Chalk up another point for the evil hands of fate.

The game continues, unfortunately, and I hit the ball over the fence. Again. Lorri, Josh, and Kelly go to retrieve it. I don't care enough to move. And my throat hurts. So, I'm standing there, watching the other people play tennis, just staring out into space, and holding my racket well away from my head. I hear somebody behind me yell "{Golem}!" I turn around, and for a brief second, see Lorri, Kelly, and Josh looking at me. Then something up in the sky catches my eye. Bird? Plane? I look up just in time to get a good, full-on view of Lorri's tennis racket in flight. Then it hits me in the face.

Evil hands of fate: 3
Golem: 0

Lorri, of course, feels pretty bad about this (I believed her when she said it was an accident). So, she runs onto the courts, and gives me a hug which consists mainly of her squeezing my face against her ample breasts. This will be the high point of the day, and the closest I get to breasts for several years. Still, it's a little hard to breathe, and it doesn't last long.

Evil hands of fate: 3
Golem: .5

Finally, the tennis is done with, and we begin the arduous trek back to the gym. We walk behind the cafeteria, on a drive which is littered with speed bumps. I'm walking beside Corey and Josh. We are walking in the middle of the road, and the pizza guy is coming down it to deliver our daily overpriced lunch pizza. He's moving slow, due to the speed bumps. Josh suggests That I just remain in the road, to see what he does, and to piss him off. Like I said, he's a malicious bastard. The guy is moving slow, though, so it's not like I'll need lightning reflexes to get out of his way, what with the speed bumps and all. So, I'm walking toward him, and I see he's not too intent on stopping. I decide to move. Then Corey...

A note about Corey. Last I heard he was in jail. He was a redneck, and not a pleasant country redneck, or even a gruff mechanic redneck. Nope, Corey was a mean motherfucking trailer park redneck. Now, if you're from the South you already understand this. Feel free to skip ahead. There are rednecks and then there are trailer park rednecks. Trailer park rednecks have to be some of the most evil sons of bitches on the planet. They are angry and cruel, in general, and often criminal. Many of them are tools of the Evil hands of fate. Avoid them if you can.

So, Corey, he decides it would be funny to push me out in front of the pizza guy. Which he does.
I'm now lying on the hood of the pizza guy's car. I am thankfully uninjured due to the low speed of the impact. The pizza guy, however, is still driving. I glance over at him, and he's not even looking at me. Doesn't even turn on the windshield wipers or anything. As I ponder what manner of death borg Domino's uses as delivery people, I notice that the rest of the class is getting farther away, and that speed bumps are nearing. So I roll off of the hood, and onto the side of the road. The pizza man? He just keeps on driving. I am unhurt, and laughing at the absurdity of the day.

Evil hands of fate: 4
Golem: .5

The next day I will have people asking me if I heard about the kid who got hit by the pizza guy. Nobody believes me when I tell them it was me. Oh well. I had my anonymous 15 minutes, nobody got sued, but we didn't have domino's at school again for a couple of years.

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