That night, my mother told me that I had to learn to shop at the grocery store myself. My mother took me to the grocery store on the street corner and told me to remember the way. I was so excited that I felt like an adult. The next afternoon, I was carrying my basket along the sidewalk to the grocery store. When I got to the corner of the street, suddenly, a gang of hooligans came out. They seized me by the collar and pushed me to the ground. They took my basket and robbed me of my money. I went home in panic. I told my mother what had happened, but she didn't say anything, and she sat down and wrote a list of things to buy, which gave me more money and sent me to the grocer's. I stumbled onto the street and found that the little rascal was hanging around the side of the road Air Purifier, and I turned and ran home. 'what's the matter? "My mother asked. "Or the hooligans just now," I replied with a shudder. "they'll beat me." "I want you to deal with these people yourself," she said flatly. "well, go ahead." "I'm afraid." "I begged. "Go away and ignore them." She told me. I walked out of the house and walked straight down the sidewalk, praying that the hooligans would stop harassing me. However, as I was almost side by side with them, one of them suddenly exclaimed, "look, it's the same black boy." The ruffians have come to me. I was startled and turned to run. Soon, I was caught up. They pushed me to the sidewalk. I cried, pleading, and kicking with my feet, but there was no way to escape being beaten. They stole the money from me, yanked my two legs and yanked it hard on my face. Finally, I walked home crying again. Mother met me at the door. "They hit... To play... Beat me, "I said, sobbing." they robbed... Rob... It's gone." I was on my way to the steps, eager to hide in the shelter of my home. "You don't want to come in." My mother warned me with a sullen face. I was scared to return to the place, staring at my mother, the heart of infinite injustice. "But they've been chasing me." "I cried. "Then you will give me the place where I stand," said the mother in a frightened voice. "I will not teach you to-night to stand up. And let you learn how to protect yourself." She walked into the room, and I waited, trembling, wondering what my mother would do. Soon, the mother came out, took out more money and another list of things to buy master of journalism hong kong, and the other held a long, heavy wooden stick in her hand. "Take these money and this list, and this wooden stick," she said. "go to the store and buy it." I was wondering -- my mother was teaching me to fight -- it was something she had never done before, "But, I fear --" I would say. "If you can't buy something, don't go into the house." "Said the mother coldly. "They'll bully me, they... " 'then you'll stay out! Don't come back! I tried to push through my mother and burst into the room. But then came a heavy slap on the cheek. I was pumped into the street. I cried, "ma, please let me buy it tomorrow!" "No! She said, "go now. If you come back empty-handed, I'll have to beat you." "Boom!" the mother closed the door and insured. The gang of hooligans behind me, alone against the gloomy street, I shivered in horror. There are only two ways to go, or go home, or stay away from home. I clutched the stick, sobbing and thinking. If I back home, finally also hide played a mother, though, and not to do any change, however, if I took to the streets myob system, to face the rogue, so you can at least get the opportunity to match my strength with their sticks, see who is winning and losing. I walked slowly down the street, approaching the gang of local ruffians, and I tightened my stick and almost stopped breathing. I have stood opposite them. "Black boy, come again." They laughed and laughed, and soon I was surrounded by one of them, who was about to grab my hand. "I fucking killed you! I squeezed this sentence out of my teeth. With the roar of my voice, the sticks in my hand had caused the head of a local ruffian to bloom. Then another bully, another rogue. In this way, I knocked down one after another, pouring all the resentment and anger into the stick. I knew that as long as I rested for a second, the rascal would slow down, so I was going to knock them down, and I couldn't get them to get up again. I shouted, waving, my eyes filled with tears. The beatings that had been suffered, the humiliation of the moment, were presented in their heads again. The lingering palpitations gave me the power to use every piece of wood. After a sharp blow, the little hooligans were Shouting and scurrying. One of the local ruffians stared at what had happened, and did not believe that it was the little black boy who had been playing tricks on them. They probably never saw such a frenzy of rage. I stood there panting and Shouting abuse; They came to fight. When I found that the little hooligans were really scared, I ran after them. They shouted and flew into their homes. Then came the parents of the local ruffians, who came to frighten me. For the first time, I shouted at the grown-ups. I warned them that if I were to ask for my trouble, I would give them a taste of my sticks. Finally, I walked to the store and bought something. On the way home, I still clenched my stick and prepared to use it again to protect myself. But this time not even a hooligan's shadow met. That night, I won the right to walk on the streets of Memphis, USA!
