Rupert was down on luck and everyone knew it. Every day, all day at the Lucky 8 Tavern he was drinking and complaining to anyone who could hear. Lost his job. Lost his wife. She even took the damn golden retriever.
It’d been a few months since he’d started going there daily and the regulars knew his stories by heart. Rupert could hardly get through a few lines before they’d roll their eyes and say the ending to his story. He grumbled at that too. Couldn’t even complain anymore.
One night a man he hadn’t before seen at the Lucky…
Harold Hagleworth was a kind man in his early 60’s who loved a bargain. So when he saw a gold watch in a pawn shop on the corner of 5th and Main being sold for a dollar, he couldn’t pass it up.
“That watch hasn’t worked in a… mm… lemme think here, well since I first saw it twenty odd years ago!” said the portly man behind the counter.
“”No worries, dear fellow,” Harold fondled the watch in his left hand, pulling out his wallet with his right, “It still sparkles like new, whether or not it ticks or tocks.”
Marvin carried his inflatable pool float around with him wherever he went. School. Home. The grocery store. Riding his bike around the neighborhood. Out to the ice cream truck. It went with him.
He carried it uninflated, but people still noticed. The ice cream man joked Marvin should buy ice cream for two. The grocer poked fun, asking if it ever helped pay the bills. The kids at school bullied Marvin, saying he couldn’t get friends, so he carried his weird toy around. Even his parents were starting to get tired of seeing it. But only Marvin knew the truth.
It was a normal night, like any other, dark and stormy, as it always was in Darrow. But Jared didn’t know this and cursed the rain. Not with actual cursing, of course, that would be too vulgar, but with your general “curses” with fist raised towards the clouds.
He had been driving to a very important sales event when his car broke down in the middle of nowhere. He managed to get the car off to the side of the road and popped the hood to see if it was fixable. …
“The best revenge, like the best sex, is performed slowly, and with the eyes open.”
― Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram
I play the long game. Keep my cards close to the chest, so to speak. Simmer this revenge over a slow heat. She’ll never see it coming.
It started with one little mistake. A stubbornness born of hurt, a refusal to apologize, two words unspoken, she lost me a friend. The anger was a pang of sharpness in my head. Why couldn’t she just move on? Instead, she brought me pain.
It continued. She sabotaged my relationships, making it impossible…