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- Growing Up Bronx
My son asked me today “Pops, didn’t you say you threw rocks at pigeons at one point”? I told him “no, the story I shared was about this kid I knew growing up that dropped a huge rock on an injured pigeon and killed it”. These are two very different scenarios.
However this brief discussion about that event reminded of the perpetrator. We’ll call him “Jo” to protect his identity. Jo was an awkward kid, I went to school with him and brought him around the block a few times, he started to become friends with my inner circle and would often just show up at any of our homes uninvited. He was a nice enough guy, so most everyone tolerated him. Though to a person everyone of us agreed he was definitely weird.
His gums used to bleed, he smelled strangely, he claimed his mom was a “good witch”, and he also said that he lived like a “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle” in the sewers for sometime. This could potentially explain the smell he carried perpetually.
In any case, though I didn’t approve, and I walked away from him that day, I wasn’t surprised he wanted to kill the injured pigeon we found on the sidewalk those many years ago. I saw him pick up the rock, and he had this evil smile on his face, “I’m gonna crush it”, we all looked at each other, “dude what’s wrong with you, it’s an injured animal”. He thought it was funny and insisted on putting the animal out of its misery. That’s the point that me and my friends walked away from him.
He did go over to pigeon and he did slam the rock on it’s head a few times. Me and my buddies walked away from what we determined was a psychopath on some “Dexter” type ish. We went to one of our houses and told our parents to say we were not there if he ended up showing up. None of us wanted to hang out with him much to begin with, for some of the aforementioned reasons, but this pigeon torturing/killing scenario was just too much. We were done with this guy.
I have no idea what ever became of him, he could have become a millionaire in some odd field, homeless, or gone to prison for all I know. No clue. But I never forgot the murderous, abusive tendencies he exhibited towards this poor pigeon when we were just kids.
Growing Up Bronx