There was one time that I was surrounded by some upperclassmen jerks.
One of them hit one of my kneecaps as they cornered me.
“I’d call that a wounded knee.” One of them bragged while the others laughed.
I wouldn’t let them have it. I may have been shorter than them, but I wasn’t going to look like I was weaker than them.
There went a right hook to that miscreant’s face.
It was rash of me, but at that time, I thought it was worth it all.
C. M. B. Bell's Writing Universe 