Revenge
They say that revenge is sweet. They also
say that revenge is a dish best served cold, and since there's
a reason cliches are cliches - namely, that there's a certain
truth to them - I've waited. I didn't want to lose my head in
the heat of passion and end up with my ass in jail for murder.
I waited for one entire year, and then I waited for another. For
two years I've sat and silently seethed, wishing in the meantime
that Roybie Robichaud would die a horrible and painfully lingering
death. Thus, my dilemma: revenge may be a dish best served cold,
but my desire for payback is still, after all this time, red-hot.
I burn with the desire to make that son of a bitch pay.
Tonight, he pays.
Don't get me wrong; I'm no psycho who plans
to tie him to his bed and then torture him before cutting his
dick off and stuffing it down his throat (though I'll admit the
idea has a certain amount of appeal). No, I simply plan to take
back from him what he stole from me. With interest.
Janie and Carla Mae follow me - somewhat nervously,
on Janie's part - through the woods behind the Robichaud house.
"Are you sure they're going to be gone
for the entire weekend?" Janie says for the fifteenth time.
I turn and frown at her.
"Don't be such a pussy," Carla Mae
snaps, her backwoods Maine accent distorting her words.
"Fuck you," is Janie's reply,
and I realize I'm gonna have to rein them in before a full-scale
slap-fight ensues.
I stop and turn to glare at them, and notice
for the first time that they're both dressed completely in black.
Like they're freakin' cat burglars, as if all we're gonna do is
sneak in and steal Annie Robichaud's cheap, crappy jewelry.
I smirk at them. "Who dressed you? Central
Casting?" They look blankly at me, then at each other, not
getting the putdown. "Look," I say. "Quit with
the bullshit, both of you. Let's just get in and out, quick and
clean. Alright?"
They nod, and I turn and heft my bag of supplies
over my shoulder again, leading the way. Five minutes or so later,
we come out of the woods in the Robichauds' back yard.
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