The Birth of El Asesino
No not this time. He refused to run. There was no way he was going to run away like the coward that he had always been. He wasn’t going to let another bully hurt him. To get the satisfaction. The freak Jean-Pierre was long gone, and in Alex’s imagination, he was buried in a pile of soiled nappies at the local dump in Manchester. Although Five years of counseling still did not get rid of the seven deep car lighter scars on his lower back, or the shame he felt even now.
And so, at that exact moment, as he stood at the ATM machine near his house holding his last 20-pound note, Alex made a risky decision. This decision was to no longer be a coward. It was at that exact moment that he told this thug to piss off.
“You heard me, piss off!” He shouted at the tall fat ginger-haired boy with the acne scarred face, who minutes earlier had tried to steal Alex’s money. ”You are not getting my money fuck face.”
“What?” The ginger boy seemed confused.
“They call me El Asesino. I have a machete in my back pocket. I will give you five seconds to step away. And trust me when I tell you that this machete has been around and did cause a few funerals. Five, four, three, two………”
To Alex’s surprise, the ginger boy started running. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because the sun was shining and so many people were around. Maybe it was that the boy realized that right above his head was a CCTV camera. But Alex convinced himself that despite his lanky physic and thick glasses, the boy was genuinely scared of Alex and his pretend Machete. And through Alex’s beating heart, he could not help but smile. Smile for the fact that he did it. He had finally told the Jean-Pierre’s of this world to piss off.
Alex ran all the way home, sat behind his PC and typed in these two words into google. ‘Machete amazon’
And that’s how El Asesino was born. Since that day, he began a career in hunting down bullies. He did cause a few funerals too, but this time, with a real machete.
By Rana Kordahi