I’m not a violent guy, and the last person I punched probably was Christopher, in the 3rd or 4th grade. We had been arguing over who should get the most money after we had walked the highway for about four miles picking up aluminum cans. He was right; his father’s primer of beer cans gave us a good head start, but I wanted half the loot. Thus came my first lesson in not mixing business with friends. On the playground the following week, Christopher made some snide remark (I’m sure anyone who knows him isn’t gasping in disbelief at that one) and stuck his chest out. I punched him in the stomach. No fight resulted, probably because we both were shocked.
My peaceful nature aside, I had to share this phrase (with all two of my readers). I was listening to NPR on my way to work at about 3:45 a.m. a month ago, and a guy was telling a story about a bully who had thrown a rock at his face. It busted up his mouth and his dad ended up taking him to the bully’s house for dental bill reimbursement. His dad told him that if he would just fight back, he wouldn’t have a bully problem. “Clock him in the snotlocker, and he’ll go down like a bag of rocks.”
I had never heard that word for “nose” before then, but after two years of wiping Ben’s nose, I can’t think of a more appropriate term.