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When I was in junior high, I had a round or two with a bully. It all started when he snatched a pack of cigarettes out of my hand and put it in his shirt pocket. Attempting to get them back, I ripped his shirt and he began insisting that I pay for it. We scuffled but I took it to wrestling, where his height wasn't an advantage and it ended that day without either of us getting hurt.
Two weeks later, a fellow I knew in passing buddied up to me and suggested we stop by a friend of his on the way home from school. I no sooner than walked in the door when I was blind sided by (what turned out to be) a 19 yo punk on meth. My jaw was broken in two places.
About six months later, a friend told me that he'd heard the guy who had taken me over to that house talking and that it had been set up by the fellow whose shirt I'd ripped.
It was after a bit more digging that confirmed this story that the three bloodiest beatings I ever was involved with happened.
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