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My nemesis Brix met with a little accident yesterday.

That I didn’t actually cause.   Well – directly.   I mean – deliberately.   That is… aw, shit.

Call it what you will.   Dramatic irony, poetic justice, karma being a bitch, revenge being sweet…

I call it getting stood up for a dinner date.   Fuck.

 

Was all geared up for fun, and fate suddenly decides my week needed livening up (or down, as the case may be…)

So afterwards, I listened to the local news – and then it was all over school today.   Brix is in intensive care.   There are mixed reactions to this from his vassals, viragos and victims.

 

As for me?

I’ve been indulging in little fantasies about how this might yet play out.

There’s the soap opera one where he comes out of hospital within hours, with a single bandaid over one eyebrow and a useful case of amnesia.   Which means he can’t recall hating me, hurting me, or having any need to hide from me.   Which makes then killing him really easy.

Then there’s the action one where he escapes from under the nurse’s watchful eye and, torn and bleeding and running on adrenaline, comes hunting me in a rage of fury and misguided vengeance (with a really cool soundtrack).   Which then makes killing him really satisfying.

Then there’s the liberal humanist one, where my dying enemy calls me to his bedside to tell me long touching tales about his troubled childhood, or the pressure to succeed, or the stress of being a modern teenager, and beg desperately for my forgiveness for his sins against me.   Which makes killing him then really enjoyable.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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3 Comments

  1. i like the part with the real cool soundtrack 😉

  2. I doubt, but WISH scenario three would happen.

  3. Say, why don’t you pay the bugger a visit to “check” on him. I’ll tag along and play the JAWS theme song in the background.


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