I remember my first brush with death. It was around the 5th grade and I was in a swimming pool filled with my peers. I believe there were 10 or 11 people at the time. I was playing Marco Polo. The pool was around 9 feet deep so you can drown a horse if you wanted to...or a Mondo.

I shouted Marco and one of the kids pulled my head under water while laughing. The more I struggled the longer he held my head under the water.

I am 100% sure he wanted to end my life at that moment. There were no adults watching us at the time which is normal in our suburb.

Right before I breathed in water, I grabbed his nut sack as hard as I possibly could and stretched it like a balloon. Then, I punched it continuously like a Hulk Hogan size Jackhammer. I turned into a barbarian in that moment of desperation by clawing and ravaging his sack of nuts.

He let out a girly scream and released my head. I coughed up everything and I started breathing again. The kid who tried to kill me started to swear at me uncontrollably and started to swing at me with one arm while grabbing his crouch.

I never was a fighter. I left the pool to walk back to my house. He tried following me but I ignored him until I arrived at my house. He lost interest when he recognized that I don’t want anything to do with him. This is the second time I have told this story to anyone.