by CJ Knudson
At the Wheels of Wonder Skating Rink…
Former High School running back Craig Kenmore and his pal Levi Gold were seated on the cushy benches separating the rink by a winding two-foot high wall.
He was using his hand to probe around inside of one of his skates—apparently attempting to remove some sort of abrading obstruction. When he spotted Brian and Tawanda he stood up and looked as if he were about to say something. But no one ever did find out what he meant to utter, because Tawanda Jackson … completely without warning …surprising even herself … caught the ex-running back in a flying-tackle, knocking the breath from him.
Brian Lund would later state that he hadn’t known that the brassy black girl was that upset until that very moment …when it was much too late to allay her feelings. You see, he’d called her a particular explicative on social media and … well, this eighteen-year-old, martial-arts-knowing, murderous rage-fueled girl had a chip on her shoulder with Craig Kenmore’s name on it.
As she prepared to immobilize him, Craig managed to upright himself, bare his teeth like an animal and attempt to make a counter-attack on this fearless female. Tawanda ducked under his wildly thrown right fist and slipped beneath his rather sinewy arm. The battling big-booty babe then grabbed Craig’s belt and hurled him out from the bench area and onto the floor of the roller rink. Craig’s backside slid across the smoothly polished floor. The big blond boy came to rest against a wall adorned with an advertisement poster that was attempting to convince young people that it was very uncool to smoke. And as the other rink skaters frantically maneuvered around the downed youth, Tawanda Jackson practically flew after him.
Brian watched all of this from the sidelines, stunned and bewildered by this turn of events resulting from his act. The act of informing Tawanda of the Instagram post where Craig basically called her the school’s ho supreme. He had felt sorry for her. She was, after all, one of only three black students at their school. He thought she needed the protection of a white guy with good will and good intentions. He was wrong.
Anyway, Craig Kenmore, gathering his strength, lunged up from the rink floor knocking Tawanda off of him. Then the ex-running back tried crawling—attempting to upright himself, but his socked feet kept slipping on the rink floor. Tawanda’s hand seized his ankle and jerked him back. Craig’s fingers tried digging into the floor …tried to gain some sort of purchase. No good. Turning, Craig lashed out with his free foot, catching Tawanda in the jaw.
The brazen young woman fell back as Craig’s foot hit her. But the blow didn’t discommode her at all. She dragged Craig to her. That was when the distraught youth began an attempt at pummeling the girl with his fists, but the awkward position he was in made this impossible. Not one of his thrown punches were able to solidly connect. That seemed to be the moment where he totally panicked—even desperately attempted to kick Tawanda in the breasts when the ghettofabulous gladiator gal grabbed hold of his shoulder-length hair and used it as a handhold of sorts. She then repeatedly pummeled Craig’s blond head against the floor of the rink until the former running back finally blacked out.
Amidst the howling crowds and stunned onlookers, Tawanda crouched down and lifted Craig’s head by his long hair. An onlooker might think she was concerned that she may have severely hurt the youth. They’d stop thinking this the moment they saw her spit solidly into the running back’s slack, unconscious face.
Then she moved down towards the youth’s big feet.
Brian Lund would later describe what happened next in their school’s unofficial counter-newspaper (“The What’s REALLY Going On Rag” … as opposed to “The Marshall Linkletter High Tribune”). In great detail he told the story and it had everyone enthralled…
“She skinned off the big blond’s slightly dirty socks gingerly by her thumb and forefinger--almost as if they had been taken off a radioactive patient zero. Now that Craig’s feet were bare, we both saw that his soles were soft and very tender-looking. She stared at his feet a long time--I suppose because bare feet were body part one rarely saw with the tux he was wearing (the skating rink visit was a part of some formal corny football celebration).
“Why had she removed his socks? I suspect she had some sort of fetish and just took the opportunity to see her new arch enemy’s naked feet as he lay there helpless before her. Later I found out that socks were her thing, not feet. She was the first girl I’d ever met with a sock fetish.
“Anyway, she checked to make sure the blond running back was still out cold—prying open one eye, lifting and dropping his limp arm.
“When she was done with this, she returned to his feet and found the running back’s best friend already there … playing with Craig’s tootsies! Levi Gold then bent down towards the big blond boy’s toes. His long, wet tongue washed over Craig’s size fifteen, pale white feet. One at a time he caught one of the running back’s saliva-bathed toes in his mouth and gently sucked on them. He sucked and licked Craig’s toes and soles clean, while I fought the urge to masturbate at the sight of this!”
It goes without saying that Instagram had a brand new target less than forty-five minutes after this incident.
