Timmy was a tiny boy. He had a bibulous habit for hard liquor. This stunted his growth and by the age of 10, he looked like a miniscule microcosm of a real boy. Timmy spent most of his days inside, writing stories out of an English lexicon his teacher gave him. He managed to convince himself he was a vampire just like his favorite magic card because he would slowly deracinate under the sun's gleam whenever he ventured outdoors.
Timmy had a rough time at school. A gang of 3 eleemosynary hooligans was dependent on Timmy's milk money. Whenever he didn't give his money, he would generally face dire consequences that would obfuscate his line of vision. The principal had no paternalism for Timmy's aegis because he said the subject was out of the purview of his authority. But Timmy's dad and the principal had a similar past to the bullies and
Timmy. So the bullies would just leave Timmy in a lachrymose state and apprise him to donate his milk money the following day.
Timmy's dad's hard liquor wouldn't quench his thirst for revenge anymore. He needed to take care of business on his own, because he obviously wasn't a vassal to the principal. So that night he planned everything out. He was going to keep his indigenous milk money from now on.
It was a new day and the bullies started their regular routine.
"Hand over your milk money or me and Joey will give you some knuckle sandwiches! HAHAHAHAHA!!!" Bob said with a solecism.
"Not today you two bit swindlers!" Timmy proclaimed sanguinely as he reached into his backpack for a crowbar. Timmy's verisimilitude of destruction rushed fear into the bullies' eyes.
And then the melee commenced. Timmy was later sued for polarizing Joey's left leg, but his memory of the claque rooting him on his orgy of destruction stayed in his mind as the happiest moment of his life. THE END.