Pronounced Bah'-ner

When I was in the sixth grade, one day I was "hangin' out" behind the billboard down on the corner, next to the print shop, kitty-corner from Poeder's Grocery. The neighborhood bully happened by, and seeing I had some candy, demanded that I give it to him "or else." I said, "I'll take 'or else'," so he hit me and took my candy.

For several days thereafter, he threatened to hit me again, so I took to walking around the block to get to school to avoid him, until my parents found out, and told me to stop doing that. I resumed taking the direct route to school, and I guess that surprised the bully, because he let me pass. However, one day, in the classroom, he issued the ominous directive, "I'll see you after school!"

At 3 p.m., I was hoping the bully wouldn't appear, when he suddenly loomed up before me. As I faced the drooling hulk, I became aware that the Bohner brothers were flanking me, one on each side. The Bohners weren't exactly friends of mine, they just loved to fight, and, in fact, when they couldn't find an opponent, they punched each other. When the bully saw them, he beat a hasty retreat, and he never bothered me again.

Today, in the newspaper, I was reading Molly Ivins. (She used to be funny, but now she's just mean.) Referencing the North Korean situation, she posed the question, "How old were you when you learned not to antagonize and infuriate the local crazy bully?" Well, I was about age eleven when I learned not to appease bullies like Kim Jong Il, even if you do call it "diplomacy."

I would ask, "Where are the Bohner brothers now, when we need them?"