To the Mother of My Bully

Nestled among the natural disasters, bloody overthrows, upheavals, and general viciousness we've come to view as normal each week, came a story about a boy. A chubby Australian boy named Casey Heynes if you're a fan of details. This particular chubby Australian boy, as over a million folks have witnessed, was at the receiving end of a series of taunts and punches by another with half his size but with plenty of Napoleanistic bravado to make up for his lack of stature. He was also at the issuing end of one of the most spine-pounding full body slams this side of Wrestlemania III.

Now the bravado of the little heathen (Ritchard Gale for you detail freaks) was also backed up by a number of his pals, one of which decided it would be entertaining to film their latest escapade on the camera phone his mother and father kindly pay for. Ah posterity. In the video the small boy approaches menacingly, and encouraged by his victim's gentle giant nature, begins to start bopping him in the face. In a later interview we learn these torments were but a normal occurence for Casey. But after about half a dozen free punches, this time the gentle giant says enough. He picks up the offending mosquito, and hurls it powerfully and frankly enjoyably to the sidewalk, much to the amazement of the previously cheering hoodlums in training.

In the ensuing aftermath of this schoolyard justice gone viral, we have learned several things. First, that it is deliciously satisfying to see a bully get sent to the pavement at a high rate of speed. I've watched the thing a dozen times now and am thinking it is up there with watching the water skiing squirrel. The second thing we have learned is that both the boys were suspended. This S.O.P. of course generated enormous sympathy for Heynes and anger at the assumed buffoonery that arrived at such a decision. The third thing we learned was that the bully's mother, despite her angel not receiving any serious injuries, such as a measly shattered fibia or simple powdered coccyx, has asked for an apology for her son. An apology for the embarrassment she has been caused by the whole affair. Assuming her words were not completely taken out of context (this is Fox News so keep the salt shaker ready), she actually said this.

So this is where I come in. I humbly offer my services, gratis naturally, to Casey. Yes son, you should indeed apologize to the mother of your aggressor. But in the event you are having trouble finding the right thing to say, please allow an old hand to offer you this template. Use or modify as needed, it is yours.

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Dear Mrs. Gale,

I am sorry I had to slam your son onto the concrete after he bullied and repeatedly punched me at school. I was looking for a cactus patch, but you know how hard those can be to find when you need one, even in Australia. The fountain may have done, but I was unsure that your Ritchard could swim. Yes the fountain was only a foot deep, but it all happened so fast that a judgement call had to be made: Concrete.

I apologize for any damage I may have caused Ritchard's shoes. I noticed as he lay there like a stunned catfish on a dock under a hot summer sun, that he was wearing a fine pair of sneakers. I fear some dirt may have gotten on the left shoe, the one I demonstrated the power of gravity to with all my sincerely apologetic might. They looked as if you must have just recently purchased them, and I know how much I hate it when my new sneakers first get dirty. Don't you hate that too?

I am sorry your son associates with people that film themselves picking on people. I am so sorry that one of your son's own friends chose to upload that video of me schooling your son in the ancient art of whoopass. I'm quite surprised he didn't consider your feelings in the matter and how it would cause you all this fuss. I can only apologize on his behalf.

I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it may be wise to have Ritchard fully examined. As I was hurling him to the deck it was surprising how wholly unsubstantial your boy felt, almost malnourished. Are you feeding him properly? I'm guessing his weight at no more than 98 pounds. Perhaps a crash exercise regimen is in order. I suggest pushups, plenty of them. Boxing lessons couldn't hurt, he really needs to work on that right hook. But you are his mother, and I leave his improvement in your capable hands.

I am finally quite sorry for your obvious yet self-oblivious failure as a parent. I am certain you didn't want little Ritchard to become a burden on society when first you squeezed him from your loins. But it's beginning to like your son probably won't be addressing us at graduation, now will he? Take heart, there's always a career as a mattress tester or stuntman. I'm betting he would excel in those vocations. And there's always the circus. He seemed quite flexible, like a ragdoll.

Of course it's also possible you only have yourself to blame, instilling as you have no sense of personal responsibility or respect for others. That compounded by you mispelling his name as you did at his birth.

Yours,

Casey Heynes