A SHORT STORY (Big Heart Little Man)

Joe Stewart was a friend of mine who happened to be a little person.  He stood at three feet even and was the brunt of jokes ever since I first met him in the second grade.  I stood up for Joe on many occasion but he was outgoing enough to laugh off all the disrespectful humor thrown at him on a daily basis.

You know how it is to be the odd man out but Joe suffered from that everyday of his life.  His trials and tribulations were agony on him but he never let it show.  He smiled all the time and kept pounding away at life’s discrepancies. The world is made up of many people like Joe. In our world we have the short, tall, ugly, fat, stupid and many would say these were handicaps people have to deal with but not Joe, he knew people with these handicaps outnumbered the beautiful people, perfect people as he called them and they were indeed the freaks.

It was the sixth grade and the last period of the day.  Joe and I were walking out of the classroom when the school bully, Gary Mikulski cornered us in the hall. “I am going to kick your butts outside if you don’t come up with five bucks.”  He said grabbing my shirt color and pushing Joey up against the lockers and he went down.  Gary was huge for his age.  Gary was about six feet tall and had the build of a wrestler.  I looked at Joe and asked if he was ok.  He was brushing his clothes off and said “Yeah, why is that guy such a creep?”  “I just smiled and said “There is one in every school.”  We walked out of the doorway and onto the street. 

On the way home, from behind a bush walks out Gary and three of his friends.  They surrounded us and Gary demanded money from us again pushing his fist into my shoulder. “Come on, faggot, give me the cash and I will let you live another day.”  Two of the goons had Joe by the arms ready to hurt him.  I looked away from Gary and he punched me in the stomach and I went down.  The three other goons started beating Joey and he also went down.  They ran as Gary yelled “Tomorrow, after school, five bucks.”  I helped Joe up and asked if he was ok.  “Yeah, I’ll live.”  He said as we walked home.

We talked about telling our parents but decided against it.  We had no money, we were eleven years old.  The next day waiting for us in the same spot was the goons.  Once again they grabbed Joe and I was getting pushed around by Gary.  I tried to push back but he didn’t budge.  This time I was hit from behind.  One of the other guys hit me over the head and I went down.  My head was bleeding and just before I passed out from the hard blow I turned to see if Joe was ok.

I came too about five minutes later.  I saw Joe standing over me and sat up.  I asked if he was ok and he said he was.  I got up and said “Look, I have had enough; we have to tell on these goons.”  Joey told me we just couldn’t and as usual we didn’t.

Now it was my eighteenth birthday.  Joey and I were still the best of friends and decided to head out for the movies.  It was hard for Joey to find dates so I dedicated my Friday nights to just him and me.  We stopped for a bite to eat and talked about the old days growing up.  The subject of the goons did come up but we just laughed it off as growing up.  Joe threw a five on the table for the waitress and we headed to my car.  Just as I was shuffling for my keys I heard a voice, “Hey, cupcakes, remember us?”  Joey and i looked at each other and knew who it was but just couldn’t believe it.  It was Gary and his buddies.  Gary threw a punch at me but I blocked it.  I then threw a punch at him and he ducked.  One of the other goons had a baseball bat and swing at my head and once again I went down.  I knew they were crazy enough to kill Joe if they had the chance.

I came too and saw a pool of blood all around me as I was being lifted onto a stretcher by the emergency squad.  I started getting my scenes back and sat up asking about Joey.  The EMT laid me back down and told me to be still.  Just then standing with a police officer I saw Joey.  I called out to him and he walked over to me as they placed me inside the ambulance.  He stuck his head in and I asked him what happened.  He just said “The bigger they are.” As he wiped his hands and walked away to finish his business with the police.

In the hospital, the next morning Joey was waiting for me to wake up. I opened my eyes and saw him sitting on the chair and once again asked him what happened.  He just said that he kicked their butts. I asked him how, because there were four of them.  He just said,” They won’t be bothering us anymore.”

I gained a new respect for Joey that day and remembered what he told be about the misfits of the world outnumbering the beautiful people.  I then knew what he meant, and that makes the beautiful people the real misfits of the world.  So remember, if you are overweight, short, tall, skinny, ugly, slow, or any other handicap, it is not a handicap at all.  We are the real people of the world and the perfect people are just the opposite.  It is not the package, but what is on the inside that is important; Joey is one example of that and he taught me a lot just being my friend.

Now at the age of fifty I recall him more then ever.  Joey passed away last summer of a rare blood disorder and I cried when they put him into the ground.  You see, he wasn’t just that short freak everyone stared at as we walked through the mall.  Joey was my dearest friend and the biggest man I have ever had the pleasure..