JUST KIDDING! Actually, when I was a kid I was basically a violent psychopath. High Five!
Meet Princess Punchkin.
That's an eight year old me, by the way. And why did I call myself Princess Punchkin? Well, go ahead and take a wild guess.
There's a saying that when all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. And while they didn't let me anywhere near hammers back then (probably a wise decision, in hindsight) what I did have were my tiny female fists of fury. Tiny female fists of fury that I wouldn't hesitate to apply to any problem I saw, no matter how big...
Or how small.
And don't get me wrong here. Punching just wasn't a hobby or an interest of mine. It was a way of life. For you see, after I had mastered the art of the regular punch, I quickly graduated onto more and more advanced techniques. Such as the Foot-Punch...
The Face-Punch...
And finally, the most advanced technique of them all. The Remote-Punch.
I had done it. At the tender age of eight, I had conquered all my dreams. At the tender age of eight, I was on top of the world. At the tender age of eight, I had become a Master of the Punching Arts.
Little did I know my skills would soon be tested. Little did I know I would soon be in for the fight of my life.
The day began inocuously enough. My parents had taken me to the beach where I couldn't break anything around the house. But just like the butterfly who flaps their wings in Tokyo and changes the world in New York, my world was about to be changed forever. Only my butterfly was a cloud that I decided I hated and needed to kill.
I don't know, don't ask. Maybe it was blocking the sun, or maybe it looked like something I didn't like, I don't remember. My rabid anti-cloud-ism isn't the important part. It's what happened next.
Crap. My prized Remote-Punch had failed me. And now my frisbee was in the water. And that damned cloud remained criminally UN-PUNCHED!
Dutifully, I waded into the water to retrieve my frisbee, muttering under my breath, picturing all the different ways I was going to get back at that stupid cloud, when the unthinkable happened.
Right. Water can drown you. Stupid leaky head. It also didn't help that I didn't know how to swim.
But it's okay, I told myself. Everything was under control. Because I had an ace up my non-sleeve...
I couldn't believe it. Had I finally met a foe who could beat me? Had I finally found something that was UNAFFECTED BY PUNCHING?!?
CRAP!!!
Desperate, I threw everything in my arsenal at my watery opponent, but nothing worked.
I was in trouble and I knew it.
But then, something wonderful happened. Something...miraculous.
My punches became so fast, so rapid, that they became a blur around me. I couldn't tell where my punches began from where they ended anymore. My hands, my feet, they seemed to occupy all space and all time, in a never-ending vortex of fury.
I had evolved. I had discovered a new state of existence. I had become...One with the Punches.
A vortex of water formed around me. A vortex of water and EXTREMELY confused fish. And then...I started going up.
Even today, I still don't know how to explain it. But somehow, I had punched my way to the surface!
It was around that moment that Dad noticed I was missing. Naturally, he was pretty worried that I had wandered into the water and drowned or something. But he didn't need to be worried about that. He'd never have to worry about me drowning ever again. Because on that fateful day, on that fateful beach, I had defeated Water forever.
"You went into the lake?!?" I remembered him shouting in alarm. "But you don't know how to swim!"
I just looked at him, my eyes the steely gaze of someone who had fought Death with her own two hands and won. "I do now, Dad. I do now."
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