Once, years ago I let this gal stay with me for a while as I had an
extra room and figured that she wouldn't be much bother. At one
time, I even became interested in her, but she didn't feel the same
way about me. That always kind of pissed me off, as I think that
for a time, I really wanted her. There was something about her,
you know what I mean...
I guess that you could call her sort of a prick teaser. You know the
type... They are just nice enough to you and show you just enough
attention to get you interested, and then when you get really hot for
them, they come off with this shit about how they just don't feel
the same way about you and back off.
Well, it wasn't long after that she moved out, taking her stuff with
her. I said fine, good riddance and had the locks changed. But,
don't you know that it wasn't long before she broke in and stole
some of my stuff, a diamond pinkie ring and whatnot. Well, she
didn't really break in. Actually she crawled in through the dog
door. I knew it was her as when she moved out, she forgotten a
bottle of her favorite perfume in the bathroom cabinet. After the
theft, I noticed that it was gone. Besides, all of which, I'd asked
around a bit and heard that she had a couple of laughs at my
expense.
It wasn't long after that I was watching late night television and
came upon an old Dirty Harry movie about some dork that hid out
in a sports stadium and tried to make Clint look bad by hiring this
dude to beat him up so that he could claim police brutality. My,
that black guy really bloodied up that dork. And wouldn't you
know that it set me to thinking. The dork had only paid a couple
hundred for the dirty work, and I mulled over the possibilities.
Well, I couldn't do anything about that bitch myself as I'd for sure
get busted for messing her up. I was too close in her rear view
mirror, but still I didn't want to wait around. The cops wouldn't do
anything, and I hate being a victim. So, one Saturday night, I went
down to see a certain guy I'd met a time or two and made him an
offer. I gave him an old Polaroid camera and picture of that cunt
and told him that there would be two nice new C-notes waiting for
him if he gave me back a slightly altered Polaroid picture of her.
I told him that I wanted to see her soundly beaten and her defient
little face cut up so she would never again be able to pull her silly
shit on any other guy like she did me.
Well, I don't know whether he really needed the money or whether
he just liked the idea, but just a couple of weeks later, he showed
up with the altered picture that I was looking for. My, he did a
good job on her. In fact, he did such a good job that I gave him a
tip.
The months passed by, and then one autumn day I saw that little
bitch on the street, and was she ever a mess. I guess the plastic
surgeons did all they could for her, but it really wasn't enough.
That scar just above her upper lip was really something to see.
Thinking fast, I quickly moved out of sight as I didn't want her to
see my smirk. In fact, if we would have made eye contact, I'd have
busted out laughing-- couldn't have helped myself! Oh well, as I
always say... "Nothing feels so good as a scratch upon the hood!"
