The Nice Girl

Everyone who knows me thinks that I am SO NICE and lovably neurotic to boot. In many ways, they are right. When I make a mistake, I am the first to apologize. When I'm inappropriate, expect me to feel guilty in .0074 seconds. Blind lady crossing the street? Lost puppies? Litter on the beach? Shoulder to cry on? I love to help out. Whatever you need, whatever you expect, whatever makes you happy, I'm your girl.

HOWEVER

DON'T PISS ME OFF. I am not one to overlook a random act of unkindness. If one goes out of their way to be rude/unfair/unkind, they become, instantly, my mortal enemy. And I don't merely want my enemies to drop dead. Oh no. When I'm pissed, I get creative.

My revenge fantasy goes something like this: my enemy "offender" falls upon their knees, dressed in rags, begging forgiveness before a stadium full of booing and hissing people throwing scraps whilst I, dressed in gowns of gossamer white and upon my raised dais, try to coax my adoring crowd into calm.

The "offender" then pleads for leniency, begs for forgiveness, rents their clothes in mental anguish and calls him/herself a "crap-sculpted loser", a "fat, disgusting beast-cow" and/or "an impotent micro-shithead"(etc, etc) in many tongues.

I nod kindly. I am magnanimous, but my people are now BEYOND bloodthirsty. They are not very forgiving, and they want revenge upon the person who would DARE address me as if I were an equal.

Suddenly, I raise a fist, and the thousands instantly hush. I must now give the thumbs up, or the thumbs down. (Coincidentally, it's always thumbs down). Once I give the signal, cheers erupt, and the host of this exhibition, (that Joe guy from Fear Factor), comes forward with the bucket of maggots/10-yr-old eggnog/hissing cockroaches, and gives them to the offender.

Chewing bravely, with maggots/rotten eggnog/cockroaches hanging out of his/her mouth, the offender alternately gags and smiles hopefully, pleading with his/her eyes, to gain my approval and my forgiveness. I watch impassively.

After the bucket is emptied, and with the crowd bursting at the seams again, I give a gallic shrug. I turn on my heel and without a word, I depart, leaving the rest of the work to the angry crowd.

Later, during my pedicure by the pirate prince, I hear rumors of dismemberment and mob justice.

I casually wonder if the offender ever recognized me as the girl he gave the finger to in the Fortinos parking lot ;)