Paperboy Memories

This blog post got me thinking back to my only remaining vivid memories of being a paperboy (the rest all run together). Both involve bodily pain; I was shot in the hand by a bb gun by the older paperboys busting my young onions rather cruelly- not particularly a fond memory. The other however is a keeper- when the distributor's dickweed son called my best pal Terry a racial slur and got piledrived on his head All American Wrestling style on the concrete for his trouble. Amazingly he wasn't crippled or rendered a retard, but his hash was settled permanently and he bothered us paperboys nevermore. It was bloody brilliant.