THE MACCALLISTER METHOD FOR DEALING WITH BULLIES

“I think I’ll tear your damn head off, boy.” Buford Sanders stood up; he was nearly as tall and wide as Jamie but had a huge belly. “I’ve killed men with my bare hands.”

Jamie smiled. “So have I, you puss-gutted, loudmouthed son of a bitch.”

The two men closed on each other.

Buford took a wild swing that would have taken Jamie’s head off if it had connected. But Jamie had sidestepped quickly and popped the man on the mouth with a solid left and followed that with a hard right to the jaw. Sanders stood flatfooted for a moment—no one had ever hit him so hard in his entire miserable life. Jamie was pleased to see his opponent’s confusion—he’d hated bullies since he was a child.

Buford rushed him, trying to get Jamie in a bear hug. Suddenly, Jamie jumped into the air and kicked out, the sole of his moccasin smashing into Buford’s face. The force of the kick sent the loudmouthed bully-boy to the floor, blood dripping from nose and mouth. Men had come rushing into the bar to see the fight and stood smiling as Jamie MacCallister kicked the crap out of the man who had beaten and terrorized so many of them.

Jamie battered the man with terrible punishing blows to the face and belly. Finally, he finished him off with a right-handed blow that broke bones. Buford Sanders toppled over, landing on the floor with a mighty crash. He did not move.

Jamie MacCallister had hardly worked up a decent sweat.