Truthfully, I am a petty person, and therefore, I have a great memory for petty things that have happened to me. I am particularly good at remembering shitty little stuff that happened in my childhood. If you bring up someone from my hometown, I will immediately recall that he bashed me over the head with an Etch a Sketch in preschool. A friend of mine from middle school? She threw raspberry jam cookies in my face and told me I was going to Hell. The girls at Girl Scout Camp put a dead centipede in my bed. You’d better believe that I remember that. I was finding remnants of centipede legs in the sheets for days. So yeah, you could say that I hold a grudge. Imagine my excitement when I got an invitation to our ten-year high school reunion! I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to walk into a gymnasium decorated with crepe paper. I quickly picked up my nametag and proceeded to approach anyone who had ever been cruel to me at any point in my childhood. I’m not talking about high school mean girls who snubbed me. I’m talking about the kid who dumped his juice in my lap when we were 5, the kind of stuff that only I remember. Striking up conversation with an asshole like that requires tact.
The discussion was going pretty well: “Oh, you’re a pilot in the Air Force? I guess that’s cool, but I sometimes write funny articles for a website. On the internet.” And then, BAM, right when he least expects it, I spill a little tonic water all over the front of his shirt! He is gonna be damp for at least fifteen minutes! “Oops, I’m so clumsy!” I fucking love revenge! Next, I rendezvous with a girl who neglected to invite me to her eighth birthday party. I, of course, have never forgiven her for her unkind faux pas. We laugh and chat, and it’s almost as though everything is forgiven, but there’s that nagging voice in the back of my head, urging me to get even. So I tell that bitch that her hair looks nice, even though it only looks okay, and then I don’t invite her to the party I’m having next month. She is gonna be pissed if she happens to see those photos on Facebook. Last but not least, I chat with a girl who is actually a friend of mine. However, I’ve never forgiven her for refusing to trade me her Hostess Cupcake for my Twinkie in fourth grade. I think that’s a fair trade, don’t you? But that little whore wouldn’t share! Anyway, I’m pretending everything is hunky-dory, even though I’m totally eyeing her piece of reunion cake. We have a really nice discussion.
But then, when she heads over to talk to the guys from the baseball team, I lure her husband into the janitor’s closet and we totally have sex! HA! Joke’s on her now! Can you imagine the look on her face when I name the baby after him?? It’s going to be priceless. So yeah, best reunion ever. I totally stuck it to everyone who had done me wrong, and I really feel good about myself now, like I finally got closure. For those of you who attended the reunion, good to see you. I hope you didn’t drink too much of the punch; I put centipede legs in it.
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