Working in the service industry I’ve come up with a lot of very creative revenge fantasies. At least once a week I sit at home after work and think about all the ways I could fuck with whatever stupid asshole I had to deal with that evening. I work at a pizza delivery place, therefore, I have the name of every little dicked asshole that’s ever called me honey, the phone number of every stupid reedie that’s made me read the entire menu, and home address of every yuppy parent that stiffs me. Fantasies range from spitting in food, to posting phone numbers on bathroom walls, all the way to egging houses. But I have one fantasy that sticks with me.
Every time my little friend “Don” calls I think about how great it would be to finally do what I’ve been dreaming of for close to a year now. My little friend “Don” is a regular customer, and a tiny angry little strip club DJ. Every time he calls he’s just short(no pun intended) and rude and condescending, and I hate him. Yes, I hate a man I’ve never actually spoken to face to face. The closest I’ve been to this man is seeing his little head barely peeking over the DJ booth. One night a delivery driver didn’t realize there were two orders of BBQ wings in the bag with “Don”’s order, and in a hurry left without giving “Don” one of his orders of wings. A few moments after noticing his order was incomplete “Don” called the shop to tell us he hadn’t gotten all of his order. Thinking maybe some one had put both orders in one box to save containers I politely asked “Don” if he’d looked inside the box, and could both orders by any chance be in there together. Well I guess my little friend found that insulting to his intelligence, because he began cursing me out and telling me he wants all his food and what the fuck is my problem telling him he doesn’t know how to count. So I tried to apologize and tell him we could either give him credit on his next order or send more wings and “Don” busts in saying “listen to me you little cunt, you’re going to send me an entire new order and it’s going to be here in 20 minutes”.
Um excuse me what? First of all, don’t tell me what I’m going to do sir. Last I checked you are a tiny man clear across town, not my fucking lord and master. And secondly, who the fuck talks to a stranger, let alone the person making their food, that way? I couldn’t even believe it! I’m not saying I’ve never used that word before, but to have some man I don’t even know call me that over BBQ wings, that I must say, are not even that good. I was pissed. I sat eating the wings he never received later that night thinking about how I’d get him back. I wanted to go over to his house after work and dump BBQ sauce all over his car, or post his number on craigslist. I wanted to show him just what a cunt I could be. And then it hit me, I knew what my perfect revenge would be.
One Friday or Saturday night I’d love to show up at the shit hole of a strip club he works at and pelt him with extra saucy BBQ wings. I get a tingle when I think of what I’d say as I stood calmly plucking the dripping wings out of the container one at a time. How I’d laugh as they splattered against his clean new Hollister Jr collared white shirt. Screaming “Who’s the cunt now bitch?” as I toss the nasty, chickeny, BBQ sauce coated box in his face before bolting out the fire exit conveniently located next to the DJ booth to a car waiting just outside.
Some day little man is going to piss me off, and I’m not going to care as much about my job and I may just act this one out.
