So, this is not a horror story, but is a true story from high school.
To set the scene; it was 1997 and I was 17 and in my junior year. I was the type of girl that wore doc martens, flowing skirts, and occasional flowers in my hair. I also was a die hard tool fan and drove a 1971 orange Volkswagen bug. My friends called my car the “pregnant skate.”
I wasn’t in the proverbial popular crowd, but was popular in my crowd. There was a senior who played football for my high school and he was considered popular. However, he LOOKED like Mr. Bean. You know, Mr. Bean from the British sitcom. The one who had a plethora of facial expressions and always managed to get himself into sticky situations. I mentioned my observation to a friend, who mentioned it to another, and it caught on…because, he really had Mr. Bean’s face.
I must say, I did not point this out to be mean, I was truly struck by the resemblance. Unfortunately for this jock, just about every one of the students started calling him Mr. Bean. Well, I really can’t recall how, but the poor guy learned that I was the origin of his new problem and his response was to lash out against me. First, he started calling me the “b” word, which evolved into slut, whore–you get the picture. This went on for months. He would yell these things at me when we’d pass in the halls.
He attempted to spit on me twice, hitting me once. Up until this point, he wasn’t bothering me. I figured I would ignore him until he was done having his tantrum. Now, I was feeling threatened and was anxious upon seeing him.
One day, in between classes, the halls were packed tight as students boisterously walked through. This included myself and best friend because we were headed to the same class. Approaching from the opposite direction was Mr. Bean and his jock friends, adorned with the letterman jackets. As he passed me, he reached back slapped my shoulder pushing me forward. The only way I can explain what happened next was that I “snapped.” Within a split second, I turned and grabbed Mr. Bean by his jacket with both hands then simultaneously reared back my right fist and punched him in the nose, while saying, “don’t ever touch me again!!”
Needless to say, he was stunned and was already being ridiculed by his friends. The bell rang and my friend and I dashed in the class and sat in our desks. That’s when I became aware of the adrenaline pumping through my system. I could barely speak and could not stop shaking. My friend was going on about not believing that just happened and I concurred.
For the rest of Mr. Bean’s senior year, he headed my request and not only did he not touch me, he avoided me all together.
The best part of this story is that about 7 or 8 years later, I was shopping in a grocery store in a different town other than where my high school was and there was Mr. Bean, directly in front of me. I wanted to make eye contact with him and offer a truce with a smile. However, once he spotted me, he turned the other direction and walked away.
This is completely true and I still giggle when I think about it.