Bully-Maton

In the Central Line, going west, there was a drunken and very large black guy drinking from a bottle of whisky. This man started bullying a very shy weak white guy. He went over to him and embraced him tightly in a sort of half Nelson. The bully was tremendously overbearing, asked the man very personal questions about his work and his sex life and forced him to drink from his bottle, which he did very reluctantly and with a disgusted expression. All of us kept ourselves to ourselves pretending that nothing was going on and hid our faces behind newspapers. At Notting Hill Gate the shy man adduced to have arrived to his destination and got off the train running like the clappers. The black guy laughed loudly and coarsely, trying to attract our attention and make everybody complicit in the celebration of his "bravery". A very attractive young woman who had been looking with amusement at the scene, sat on the empty seat and said smilingly, prodding the drunkard's ribs with a very sharp, painted fingernail: "You are a bully, aren't you?..You took advantage of the guy because he was smaller than you and the people around here said nothing. You had fun only because you are a bully...You wouldn't do that to me, would you!"...She grabbed the man's bottle from his hand and took a large swig. The big guy was surprised and only managed to chuckle stupidly . "Oh, you big bullies are all the same" she said. "Only brave with people smaller than themselves!"...We were shitting on our pants imagining that the bloke was going to massacre us to demonstrate that she was wrong, but instead he asked for his bottle back. She took another swig and returned it to him. The man got off in Shepherd's Bush without saying a word and the girl continued her journey reading a woman's magazine.

This story is ABSOLUTELY true.

Oscar Grillo

En un tren de la Central Line yendo al oeste de Londres, subio un negro gigantesco medio borracho que bebia whisky directamente de la botella. No bien subir y el tipazo se pone a intimidar a un pasajero chiquitito. Con sus brazos musculosos le dio un fuerte apreton que mas que un abrazo era una "Half Nelson" y empezo a romperle las pelotas. El matón era tremendamente molesto e insistente y le preguntaba al hombrecito cosas personales sobre el trabajo y su vida sexual y lo incitaba a beber de la botella, cosa que el esmirriado caballero hacia con mucho esfuezo y poniendo cara de asco. Los demas pasajeros haciamos finta de que no pasaba nada y nos ocultabamos tras periódicos y novelas. en Notting Hill Gate el hombrecito dijo que habia llegado a su destino y se bajó del tren a toda velocidad. El negro se rió fuerte toscamente tratando de atraer nuestra atención y hacernos complices en la celebración de su bravuconada. Una muchacha muy atractiva que había estado mirando la escena con aire entretenido se sento en el asiento que el chiquitin dejo vacante y le dijo al borrachon en tono malicioso y pinchandole las costillas con una uña pintada: ¿" Vos sos un matoncito cualquiera, no es cierto?.. Te aprovechaste porque el tipo era chiquito y la gente que hay aqui no dijo nada. Te divertis asi por que nos sos mas que un matón de diez centavos... ¡Conmigo no te atreverias a hacer lo mismo! "... Le arranco la botella de la mano y le dio un gran trago . El grandulon estaba tan soprendido que sólo atino a sonreir tontamente. " Ah! Los matones son todos iguales " ella dijo. ¡"Solo son valientes con gente más debil que ellos! "... Nosotros cobardemente nos cagábamos en las patas del terror imaginando que el curda iba a masacrarnos para demostrarle a la mina que estaba equivocada, en cambio este se paro y con tono resentido le pidió que le diera su botella . Ella tomó otro trago y se la devolvió. El hombron se bajó en Shepherd's Bush sin decir palabra ni mirar para atras. La muchacha siguió el viaje leyendo una revista para mujeres.
Esta historia es ABSOLUTAMENTE VERIDICA.

Oscar Grillo