We must not act in violence. I've said that time and again, but I guess I've never had the chance to practice what I've been preaching. Well, don't worry--I have now. Apparently some people in the rave subculture haven't gotten used to there being poleepkwa disc jockeys...so a few of them decided to talk it out tonight, in an alley, over lead pipes and spilled blood.
You'd think I'd have expected it when they called me. "Hey, Prawn." Why do they always call us prawns? I can understand the resemblance to grasshoppers or shrimp to an extent, but the word's gotten out that the correct term is poleepkwa. People should know that's the right name for us...then again, I don't really think those 5 or so guys cared what I was called. Nope, they ignored my comment of 'it's poleepkwa' and formed a silent circle, grinning with that cold smile that isn't a smile at all...it's the showing of teeth. I knew what was coming--I've been at clubs long enough to recognise a streetfight when I see one--but where could I run? They all hung back, then by a silent consent rushed forward. I'll spare the details, but it wasn't fun to me, however much they were laughing.
And you know what? I didn't fight back. I didn't whimper, didn't cry for help or plead for mercy. Defending myself would have added to the image of a 'prawn' being a big violent monster; crying out for help would have goaded them to further cruelty. The best thing you can do with people like that is let them have their sick fun and leave them when you can. They'll get what's coming to them--you don't need to sink to their level and fight. We must not act in violence.
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