I wasn’t born a bitch. At least, I don’t think that’s how it happened.
I had an unremarkable childhood. Two alcoholic parents, a dog that hated me, a cat with one functioning eye, and 60 extra lbs. that I carried until was 17 and developed a handy eating disorder. Totally normal.
I knew I was different than other children when I was sent home from school on the first day of 1st grade for trying to set the school on fire.
I was approached in the field by a pupil who asked, “What are you doing?” quite plainly. I looked up from the sticks I was twirling together in my palms, loose brush at the base (I’d seen enough MacGyver), and said: “Trying to set the school of fire.” It was very Wednesday Adams of me.
I was mad at her for being a tattletale little bitch, but it would be many more years before I would begin daydreaming of vengeance.
The first draw must have been the occult. Voodoo dolls were cute. I can remember thinking: Raggedy Ann and Andy bring the pain! I may have even experimented with grandma’s sewing needles and Raggedy Andy; I liked Ann, I didn’t want to hurt her.
As I’ve gotten older, my patience has eroded. My propensity to fantasize about the myriad of ways I might exact revenge on someone is embarrassing.
I caught myself daydreaming in the car just the other day.
I thought about changing out someone’s windshield wiper fluid; exchanging it with motor oil. What’s frightening is that I didn’t even have anyone in mind, this was just a “backup plan.”
Do “normal” people consider shoving a garden hose up someone’s tail pipe, flooding it with water, then plugging it with a potato? I’ve also considered the kind of damage a plastic bag secured up a tailpipe could do.
To be clear, I’m not a fan of personal injury lawsuits. I prefer to discreetly destroy the things of value to you. Your belongings are for sure fucked!
Depending on the level of hate I have towards you, I may attempt to annihilate your reputation. That would indicate you’ve rented space in my brain. Unlikely due to its limited load-bearing capacity, but not entirely impossible.
Maybe I just have too much time on my hands?
I’m not above hiring an exterminator and having them show up at your place of business to confirm the appointment for the rat abatement at your residence. Could be an interesting conversation to have with coworkers. Still, no one specifically in mind. Just things I think about.
I’ve always wanted to test the strength of Gorilla Glue. It’s advertised as having “industrial holding power and versatility” The possibilities are exciting. Just need to be sure I don’t glue my fingers together or my ass to the floor.
I’m sure there are better ways to spend time than masterminding the destruction of relative strangers and foes, I just don’t care enough to develop them.
If you’re out there, Sandra from 1st grade, I’m coming after ya. I just need to get my hands on an old yearbook. Maybe I’ll even find Corduroy Poopy-Pants, too. I haven’t played dodge-ball in a long time.