Honestly, I've always felt like a bit of a dick myself whenever I respond to the faux-badassery of little tiny scrubs, given that by doing so I'm basically becoming the big bad oppressor. But the way I see it, it's like fire ants...you can tolerate their nips for a while, but there come a time when you just have to squish a few. Case in point:
So I'm a freshman in college now, therefore officially making me a little scrub, but back when I was in high school there was this one little twat who really got under my skin. He was "tough." He was "all that." He was "gangsta." He wore Ed Hardy, had his hat on sideways, his pants on backwards...ho yuss, he was the shit and he damn well knew it. He was also about five foot and had a tiny squeaky little voice, which meant that whenever he looked someone up and down as he passed them in the hallways, he was really pretty much looking them up and more up.
Now, I was--and still am--pretty introverted. I have a circle of very close friends, and while I'm by no means a social misfit, I don't exactly go out of my way to make friends with every lunkhead I see. I guess I must have met Mr. Small But Mighty at some point and conveyed that vibe to him, because he made it his personal agenda to prove his magnificent awesomeness to me to show me what I was missing by not being in his "crew." He did this largely by throwing food at me and shoving me in the hallways--or, more accurately, shoving my bookbag and bouncing off it. This goes on for about half a year (let it never be said that I don't give assholes a chance), before reaching a head in maybe March of my senior year, when the gormless little fuck drops his half-empty container of OJ in front of me a lunch, wrecking a paper of my friend's I was editing.
To be honest, I don't look terribly imposing. I'm 6'5", yeah, but I'm significantly under 200lbs and have never had the type of body that puts on visible masses of muscle when I work out. That said, I do work out--daily--and I can bench-press almost 300lbs. Little bastard never had a chance. Grabbed him, slammed him onto the table, then threw him back onto the floor. Then made him print out a new copy of my friend's essay for me. I didn't see him once for the remaining two months of my senior year. Did I feel like a bit of a bully? Yeah. Was it amazingly cathartic and do I wish him nothing but continued pain for the rest of his meaningless and hopefully short existence? Yeah. Do I carry grudges? ...Nahhhh.