In my defence...

…the breakup had been a bad one, and tempers were still hot as I packed my things. She’d hurt me more than I thought possible, and moreover I felt more betrayed than I’d ever been. So I allowed my own baser nature to overcome my better angels. I was too angry, and I acted rashly. I know that’s not an excuse, but I hope that, in some small way, it provides an explanation.

Specifically, I left a bucket of shrimp in the basement, by the radiator, without telling her, before I moved out.

Obviously I wasn’t there weeks later when she found it, but I can only imagine her disgust as she came unexpectedly upon it. The stench alone must have been overpowering, and her revulsion as she was forced to carry that bucket of rancid shellfish upstairs and out to the corner for disposal is something that, in spite of my shame at having been so petty to someone I’d once loved, I still have to admit I’d have like to have seen.

So yes, I did once Revenge Prawn an ex-girlfriend. I’m not proud of the fact that I did it, but I did it, and there it is.

What? Well what DID you ask, then? What’s that? What, NO! No, I’ve never done THAT to an Ex. That’s revolting, absolutely fucking inexcusable. Who would do that?

Policy Change

Upon our arrival at work, the front of house staff were handed small, silenced pistols and told that, going forward, we would be expected to, on occasion, execute our customers gangland style.

It was hoped that this would provide a simple, elegant solution to the guests who got too drunk, spoke too loudly, and generally disrupted their neighbors enjoyment of their meals. According to our new policy: At the request of a customer, we would drag the offending patron out into the parking lot, put a bullet in them, and toss their body into a specially marked biohazard dumpster located to the side of the building for later disposal before cleaning up any blood that might have spattered on us, hygene is important in food service, and returning to our duties, allowing other customers to enjoy their dinner in well deserved peace.

The restaurant’s lawyers, we were assured, had already worked out the various thorny legal details. There would be no consequences to us personally for the people we were asked to kill.

Nor should there be. It’s just a job after all, and minimum wage plus tips isn’t worth going to court over.

It seemed, we reflected, the sort of scheme that might actually work. After all, it’s only a few rowdy patrons who ruin the evening for everyone else. Nonetheless, we were naturally profoundly uncomfortable at the prospect.

Not uncomfortable that we’d be expected to commit murder, mind you, it’s the dream of every waiter to be allowed to kill the occasional guest. Rather, uncomfortable at how the decision as to who needed to die would be made.

We’re fine with killing customers.

We just don’t want YOU to choose who lives or dies…

Weekly Prompt Story: Drums

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2011/11/20/weekly-challenge-291-drums/


Drums
By Christopher Munroe

For his ninth birthday, I bought him a drum kit.

When he opened the box his face lit up. I knew I’d chosen correctly.

As I set it up for him, I explained how much practice it’d take to learn to play really well.

He assured me he was willing to put in the effort.

When my coworkers heard I’d bought such a gift for a child, they thought I was insane. They said I’d never sleep again!

I wasn’t concerned.

He wasn’t my child, after all. He was yours.

So, tell me: Was stealing my parking space worth it?

Modern People

If you kill me, he told us angrily, I’ll return to seek revenge.

We laughed. We’re a modern people, with no time for such superstitions.

We executed him on schedule, and that was the end of that.

Except…

Seven children have taken ill over the four months since. Our doctors have told us they’ve no idea what’s caused it, no idea if whatever’s wrong can be cured.

The elders are speaking about the old ways again, about what we can do to appease the great spirit.

I don’t know what to believe.

We are a modern people, but our children…

Revenge

The best revenge, they say, is living well.

As you go to work, I’m breaking into your home. I intend to move your furniture into your roommates room, and his into yours. I will decorate your rooms such that it appears nothing has been changed.

I will move the furniture in your living room so it looks like the room was rotated 90 degrees clockwise.

I’ve already cleared this with your roommate, he’s going to behave as though your home has always been thus.

Living well may be the best revenge, but driving you mad will be a close second.