Chapter Nineteen: Revenge

I waited in the dark. Revenge would be mine. I had been plotting for days. They came in late, past eleven. She was giggling, he talked smooth. Then there was the unmistakable sound of two people passionately kissing. The ruffle of clothes being removed. I could hear them moving around the apartment, probably undressing on their way to the bedroom. I tensed in my hiding place, ready to pounce.

They were in such a rush that they didn’t turn on any lights. I heard a woman’s soft sigh, and knew that they were on the bed. I picked up my weapon and flicked it open. I pushed the button.

The telephone rang.

“Crap,” the man grunted.

“Leave it,” the woman said, her voice full of craving.

The telephone continued to ring. And ring.

“I can’t leave it,” he said. “Caller ID. He’s my best friend.”

She made a sound. A sound that said she was miffed. That little gasp of offence and indignation.

He reached for the phone.

“Gahh, what the hell?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s all over the phone,” He turned on the light. She began to laugh almost immediately. It grew louder and louder.

“Stop laughing!” I heard him say. Then, louder: “Stop laughing!”

I heard her giggles and chortles receding, and then the door slammed. He was alone. The telephone continued to ring. It stopped before the answer machine. And then started again.

“Fuck this,” I heard him say. Footsteps. He was in the kitchen. I decided to follow.

“Hello?” He said, his voice irritated, picking up the other phone. “Digger, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Matt. I just called to tell you the good news.”

“What’s that?”

“Payback’s a bitch. Have a nice day.” I hung up.

“That tricky bastard…” He said, his voice admiring.

“I am,” I agreed from behind him. “Smile.”

He turned, bewildered. I sprayed him with the sticky foam, as I had the bedroom phone. I laughed, and then snapped a picture with my cell. While he sputtered and swore, trying to get it off, I emailed it to our list of friends. Soon everyone would know, today I had my revenge.

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I helped Matt clean up. I’m not a mean guy. He showered while I tidied the kitchen. Then, we went into the bedroom and started taking down the posters.

“I can’t believe you blew these up.” He shook his head.

There was one of him playing with his penis in the bathtub at the age of one or two. Another was him with his pants down at camp. There was Matt in high school dressed as a girl, the day he lost a bet. There was another from college, where he did the same thing on purpose, as a frat prank.

“Hey, you look good with shaved legs. It’s not my fault she’s not into cross-dressers.”

There was a poster of Matt mooning the cheerleader squad, and one of him on a blind date with a really fat girl named Celeste he met on the Internet.

“Dude, this was creative, I’ll give you that,” Matt couldn’t help but grin.

“I figured I owed you. My dad wants me to bring Calla to dinner on Friday.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’m getting promoted. And since you’re so good at public relations and marketing, you’ve impressed my parents with the young lady I’m seeing. Too bad I’m NOT seeing her.”

“Crap. Well, I guess that means you have to call her.”

“No way. She’s crazy. Not worth the hassle. I’ll just tell them we broke up.”

“Right. Because we know how much your father likes being let down.”

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