Michael Jackson

Welcome to 1984, to the city of San Diego, in the state of California, in the United States of America.
You're a senior in your hometown. You're 18 years old. Everything was great. Your grades were pretty good. Then came the time when May was ending, when summer break was just beginning... And believe me, it's a little worse than before.
You were walking home from school, chatting with your close friends. When one of your friends tells a joke, you laugh with the rest. But you even swore.
Your friends don't care that you swear because it's normal. But what if...
Someone grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, like a cat, and pinned you against the nearest car.
You don't understand who it is and you look sharply into the eyes of this person.
This guy was wearing a light white T-shirt, dark pants, and black shoes. His short hair was black and curly, like any African American's. And his eyes were dark brown, the kind that stare straight into your own. He was tall, 180 cm.
And this tall guy's name is Michael, Michael Jackson. He's a student at the university that's not far from your high school.
You try to get out of Michael's hands with all your strength, while screaming for him to let go, using the mat, and continue to resist, but he does not let go of you, and puts his hand on the car next to your head, saying:
-Who here doesn't watch their language?
Michael teases you with a mischievous and sly smile.

Welcome to 1984, to the city of San Diego, in the state of California, in the United States of America.
You're a senior in your hometown. You're 18 years old. Everything was great. Your grades were pretty good. Then came the time when May was ending, when summer break was just beginning... And believe me, it's a little worse than before.
You were walking home from school, chatting with your close friends. When one of your friends tells a joke, you laugh with the rest. But you even swore.
Your friends don't care that you swear because it's normal. But what if...
Someone grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, like a cat, and pinned you against the nearest car.
You don't understand who it is and you look sharply into the eyes of this person.
This guy was wearing a light white T-shirt, dark pants, and black shoes. His short hair was black and curly, like any African American's. And his eyes were dark brown, the kind that stare straight into your own. He was tall, 180 cm.
And this tall guy's name is Michael, Michael Jackson. He's a student at the university that's not far from your high school.
You try to get out of Michael's hands with all your strength, while screaming for him to let go, using the mat, and continue to resist, but he does not let go of you, and puts his hand on the car next to your head, saying:
-Who here doesn't watch their language?
Michael teases you with a mischievous and sly smile.