Based on: The Plot To Bomb The Panhandle
This was the last
straw. Absolutely, definitely the last straw. I come home from
working overtime just so that I can support his lazy,
good-for-nothing, non-working ass and what do I find? Him, in
my bed, fucking some hooker.
I have been nothing, but good to him. I even helped pay for some of his rent so that he wouldn't get kicked out of his house.
I was the best girlfriend ever and what do I get in return? Him cheating on me! The nerve that boy has. Unbe-fucking-lievable.
Suddenly it all makes sense. All those little flirty gestures he would give to other girls when we would go out. (I passed it off as Oh. He's not meaning to, it's just how he is.) All those times when I couldn't come over because he was "leaving" or because he was "tired."
It's okay. I'm not
so easily beat. He'll get what's coming to him.
* * * * *
I walk down the long, narrow road to my friend's house. All five of my best friends are staying there tonight. They invited me to come, and I had said yes, but I needed to go tell him that I wasn't going to be able to stay over at his house. And that's when I found him. . . .
I knock once, then walk in. They're expecting me.
They're sitting on the couch, eating popcorn, and watching "The Hangover."
"Hey." I say.
They jump a little, then sigh in relief when they know it's me.
"Hey," they mumble back and offer me some of their popcorn.
"Nah, I'm not that hungry." I say. "I have something in mind, though, for tonight, if you guys are interested."
Carrie, one of the girls, pauses the movie. "Yea, sure. Whatdaya wanna do?"
"Guess what I found when I went to my boyfriend's house?" I cross my arms.
"What?" This time, Amber asks.
"He cheated on me."
They all gasp.
"So, I figured we can go and teach him a lesson."
A smirk forms on all of their faces, including mine. They know me, and they probably know what I'm thinking.
"Megan, you still have your baseball bat?"
She laughs. "Yup."
Megan used to play baseball Junior Year. She practiced so much, that she became the best one there.
But lucky for me, a car is a lot easier to hit than a baseball.
"How about eggs and toilet paper?"
The girls search the house looking for things to use. Things to throw, scratch, or ruin valuable material.
We end up with a baseball bat, eggs, a whole package of Angel Soft TP, spray paint, keys, light and heavy rocks, and a couple of hammers.
We're pretty proud of ourselves.
We all grab what we can and get in Sara's car. It fits all of us.
I give them directions to his place. I'm excited.
The lights are out when we pull up to his house. He's probably out, since he doesn't sleep at nine o'clock.
Once we make sure the coast is clear, we run out, and do as much damage as we can.
"The car is mine!" I yell.
I'm so glad that wherever he went is within walking distance. His car means everything to him. It was always clear that he loved it more than me.
I start by taking some of my keys out and scratching the paint all around the car. Then, I slash his tires with the back of a hammer.
Once that's done, I take the baseball bat and whack it hard against the windshield and the windows, then the top and sides of his once-precious automobile.
The car is done.
I look behind me. These girls work fast! I can see they're having just as much fun as I am.
Serves him right.
The whole yard is TPed. Most of the windows are broken and shattered -- he never did have enough money for an alarm system. The house is spray painted all around with words and sentences like You disgust me, I thought you were better than this, and Fuck you.
"Got any more spray paint left?" I ask.
Rayna hands me a bottle. "This is the last one."
I smile and run to the door. I write diagonally, in big, capital letters: CHEATER.
We step back and look at the masterpiece we made. We high-five each other and walk back to Sara's car.
This was a night well spent.
I just wish I could see the look on his face when he comes home.