Spartacus Got Me Beat Up

I have a vague recollection of my parents dragging me to see "Spartacus," when I was a wee lad. It must've been a revival or maybe we even watched it on TV. Whatever. But forcing a six-year-old boy to sit through a three hour and twenty minute epic about boring politicians hanging out and talking in togas strikes me as not the greatest idea.

(Side note: My dad had a strange history of the films he chose for family viewing. We saw "Patton (tortuously dull)," "Walking Tall (how was this a children's film?)," and best of all, "Billy Jack (my first spotting of female nekkidness--three, count 'em, three times!--Thanks, Dad!)." Once we got older, his choices grew worse, leaning toward redneck comedies with Clint Eastwood and an orangutan. I finally broke with the herd; while they watched Burt Reynolds and cars, I snuck into the theater next to it to catch flicks like "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and "Dog Day Afternoon.")

Anyway, as a six or seven year old, "Spartacus" bored me stupid. But one thing stayed with me. Well, two actually: the gladiator fights and how the Roman emperors would react to the outcome of a match, usually with a dramatically downward turned thumb to end the loser's life. Cool!

So, the next morning, there I was on the school bus, all sparkly and glowing with gladitorial thoughts as we bumped our slow and nauseating way to school. All was terrific in my little world until we came to the inevitable stop to pick up this older, bus bully. That's when I always clammed up, for I'd felt his wrath before, having been tripped by him, shoved, called names, the entire fun package.

Once this monster boarded, I tried to make myself invisible and retract into my turtleneck shirt. It seemed to work, as he found a new target in the kid in front of me. But after a while, I'd had enough of watching this torment. I found myself wondering not what would Spartacus do in such a moment, but rather what would a Roman emperor do. The answer was quite obvious.

Slowly, methodically, oh-so-dramatically, I raised my hand. Made a fist with my chubby lil' thumb up. A hush fell over the bus. A spotlight framed by the sun pouring in caught me. For one glorious moment, all eyes were upon me in my most Roman magnificence. Then I turned my thumb down.

I don't know what I was thinking. The gesture was meant for the bully, not his victim, so it didn't make a lot of sense. And how in the world could I possibly get out of this? By inspiring the rest of the beaten and downtrodden smaller kids to revolt on my behalf? 

Clearly the bully understood the gesture was meant for him (even though I'm absolutely certain he didn't understand the context; I've never met a smart bully. I'm pretty sure that's why they are bullies). Quickly, his rage turned toward me. He grabbed my turtleneck, raised me, shook me, cursed me, and ended things nicely with a few punches. Naturally, the bus driver ignored the obvious ruckus, only because he was the second biggest bully on the bus.

(Side note #2: A college friend of mine was indoctrinating his girlfriend into the "joys" of "Spartacus" at a revival, as she had never seen the film. When they drove up to the glorious old Glenwood Theater {the last of it's old-fashioned massive kind}, she read the marquee and got angry. Beneath "Spartacus" was the title for another film, "One Good Cop." She read it all as one title. "You didn't tell me this was a cop movie," she yelled. Even better, when they watched the credits and writer Dalton Trumbo's name came up, she screams, "That's my uncle!" "Spartacus" touches everyone in different ways.)

Recently, my wife and I watched Spartacus again and all of these painful memories came flooding back. Some kind of leader, that Spartacus. Not only did he get all of his followers crucified, but he made a grade school kid take one for the team, too.

I am NOT Spartacus!

While on the topic of bullies from my past, they run absolutely amok throughout the first book in my high school/supernatural/murder mystery/comedy/social issues trilogy, Tex, the Witch Boy. These characters, too, are based upon my bullies in high school hell. Give it a look-see if you dare.