Revenge of the Pussy
It had been several weeks since the hearing. Dildo was acting as if he had won. He was his same arrogant, cocky self. Lane explained that his ego could not process such a devastating blow and I should expect him to be incorrigible. She was right. She recommended I not crow over him about his judicial nass whipping. I followed her advice. But it was annoying - denying myself opportunities to poke at him and gleefully watch him wriggle. What happened to “To the victor belongs the spoils”? It was “not advisable” in my case. What was the world coming to? I would have to settle with something less than actually watching him suffer.
But what? Hum. I knew I wanted to make him squirm in misery. Yet I had to execute the misery from a distance - with anonymity. I was inspired by stories of wives creatively exacting revenge on their unsuspecting, cheating husbands. One story was about a woman who lost the house to her cheating husband. Before she moved out, she put shrimp inside the curtain rods. The smell of the rotting shrimp corpses was so bad the ex and his girlfriend had to move out. Another story was about a woman whose cheating husband always complained about her cooking. She got tired of the complaining and him. She served him a delicious meal of cat poop meatloaf and quietly watched him enjoy his meal. Another story was about a woman who chose a more public display of her disaffection for her cheating husband. She published his name and the size of his penis on a billboard just a stone’s throw from his office. Presumably he had a small penis.
I needed a revenge for Dildo that really … held his attention, took his breath away even. I consulted several friends on the matter and came up with the third most perfect revenge for Dildo (both the first and second most perfect revenges would have landed me in jail). It was a great idea. I couldn’t wait to get started. I had learned my lesson about poor planning from my futile attempt to kill Dildo by having a restaurant parrot peck out his liver while secured to a chunk of limestone by home depot chain and my old middle school combination lock. Careful planning was the key to successful revenge. I set the wheels of the affliction train in motion
“Hey Paige. Are you at the clinic today?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Can you get your hands on some cat dander and some anal gland excretions?”
“Sure. Whatcha gonna do with them?” Completely unmoved.
“Get revenge on Dildo. I’m thinking cat allergies and the shitsters should set him up for a while.”
“He deserves worse.”
“Well. You know how allergic he is to cats. You know he still has clothes and furniture here he wants to get. So I’m going to load ‘em up with a gift that keeps on giving.”
“Can I watch? Can I help?”
“That’s why I’m calling. How does one harvest cat dander anyway?”
“You brush the cat and get the dander from the brush.”
“Then what do you do with it?”
“You could just put it into a baggie.”
“Okay. Sounds doable.” Noodling for a moment. “How does one harvest anal glad excretions?”
“You wear a glove as you express the anal glands into a baggie. You don’t want to get any of that nastiness on you.”
“That stuff stinks, right?”
“Ughhh. It’s almost the worst smell out there.”
“Almost the worst? What’s the worst?”
“The pestilent drainage from an abscess.”
“How bad does that smell?”
“Oh. It’s horrible! You can’t get it out of you nose for three days.”
“Ooo. Maybe I need some of that stuff.”
“I’ll see if we have anybody in here with a disgusting wound.”
“Thaaaank you. You still coming for dinner?”
“Yep. Be there a little after 6:00. Depending on how long it takes to get all this together.”
I hung up with a sense of pride and anticipation. I was really going to do it this time. I could just imagine it, in all its glory…
Dildo is at a meeting with several important people whom he is struggling to impress. They are in a small conference room around a table cluttered with papers. His eyes are itchy and bloodshot. He can’t see the documents because of the mucous murking up his contacts. He blinks harder and more deliberately each time to no avail. He clears the green gunk from his eyes and tries to discretely wipe it on the napkin his bagel is resting on. There are no tissues, so he uses the back of his hand to wipe the end of his drippy nose. It’s difficult to hear what anyone is saying over his own snorting and coughing. To make matters worse, there is this awful smell emanating from somewhere. He flares his nostrils to locate the source. To his horror, he discovers the odor is rising from somewhere on him. He checks and rechecks his shoes and sniffs his hands. Nothing. He is paralyzed by intrusive thoughts …”Did I forget to wipe?” He looks up to see everyone at the meeting exchanging looks and averting their noses. Excuses fly as people elbow each other out of the way to the exit. No work is achieved that day. He is left alone to wonder, “Did they notice the smell?”. His wonder is put to rest when he overhears a waning voice say something about “Ira” and “rolled in pig shit”.
Paige arrived with a cat under each arm. She had good news and bad news. The bad news was that the clinic was low on putrid injuries oozing puss and all anal glands had been milked by the time she made her rounds. The good news was that I could get plenty of dander from the two cats she had in tow.
I spent the better part of three days with these two glorious cats. They provided enough allergens to dust all of Dildo’s possessions. Just because I didn’t have a cache of anal gland juice, don’t think I didn’t dab a little stink onto Dildo’s clothes, too. It was all so simple to execute. Step 1. Lift dry cleaning bag. Step 2. Lift cat’s tail. Step 3. Lift lapel. Step 4. Rub cat’s exposed butt on jacket. Step 5. Put cat down. Step 6. Pick up baggie of cat dander. Step 7. Sprinkle, as if it were fairy dust, invisible dander onto/into clothes. Step 8. Slide dry cleaning bag back over clothing. Step 9. Sprinkle, as if it were fairy dust, invisible dander onto/into club chair, et al.
Ira came to pick up his clothes and the furniture. He laid down the clothes in the front seat of the U-Haul he had rented. He and his brother loaded the other items into the trailer. His brother seemed especially sensitive to the fact that Dildo had been kicked out of two homes in six months (mine and Porcine’s) and, because he had no more money or friends, was forced to move in with their parents.
I laughed out loud as I watched the truck bump along down the road surely jarring its passengers. The symmetry was too good to be true. Dildo was taking his cat-infested belongings to his parents’ house. Their last name translates to cats. I couldn’t have dreamed a more perfect revenge for Dildo!
By god - if it wasn’t revenge of the pussy!
