More tales of Kung Fu ass kickings!

I really feel bad... After my previous post, a little birdie let me know that when my brother entered 7th grade, he was constantly getting beat up by his classmates...and I wasn't there to defend him. In 1980, after 6th grade, boys and girls would get separated in different schools, so I wasn't aware of the daily abuse endured by my bro. I now think the reason is because most of the guys bothering him had been punched or kicked by me at one time or another, they were just using him as payback. I'm too old to fight back now, but maybe if they have kids, I can have Devyn beat them up.
As I told you before, I really did not relate to girls all that much, in fact my best friend growing up was Gilles Burnier, my 6th grade teacher's son. His mom is Italian, so our parents started hanging out together when we moved to Saxon.
It was a love/hate relationship: we had so much fun playing together, but we were so competitive with one another in regards with school grades and piano lessons. He was smaller than me, with a bob haircut and braces. My other friends could not understand how I could hang out with him, he was so pompous and irritating. It was fine by me, 'cause every time he got too irritating, I would beat the crap out of him, make him cry and run to his mom, then he would be really nice for a few days.
My beatings affected his school work, so in 4th grade, our teachers and parents decided to put us in separate classes. One day, we had both just taken an important test, Gilles saw me in the hallway and began gloating that he would get the better grade, that he was smarter than me, etc. I only had a couple of minutes before the teachers would be in the hall, so I quickly punched him in the face, kicked him in the balls and walked away. We had just come back from recess and I was taking my shoes off and putting my slippers on, when I heard a noise behind me, turned around and got punched hard in the right eye. It was Gilles, he had finally grown a pair and decided it was time for payback. I held in my tears ( a bully never cries!) and returned to class, with my hand in front of my eye. My teacher noticed it, asked me to move it and was rewarded with the biggest, bluest black-eye he had ever seen. He called both our parents in for a meeting, to discuss our violent behavior.
While our parents were in the classroom talking, we were asked to wait outside in the hallway. I took advantage of the situation and gave Gilles a beating he can still remember. In fact, I'm amazed he has 3 kids, I thought I might have damaged his chances with the 20 continuous kicks in the nuts he received that day... He never laid a hand on me again.