This story happened about 16 years ago, my sophomore year of high school. I had only moved to this area at the start of my freshman year but I had made friends quickly. Everyone in the school knew everyone and there weren’t any bullies, it wasn’t tolerated and they would usually be shut down socially very quickly.
In moves sociopath, we’ll call him Brad. Brad was the type of person whose second nature was to lie and only a few people could see through it, a few of which was me and another friend, Mary. Brad was reasonably attractive (looking back, ugh, how?), so a few girls liked him. He became good friends with my best friend Mary, so I had to tolerate him. Mary and I did everything together and Brad had a car, so being 15, it was tolerable.
Over the course of the next year he wiggles his way into my circle of friends and generally embarrasses and picks on anyone who he didn’t care for. One of these people was me. I called him on his bull constantly and refused to play along with his antics. Most people at that age found him funny and amusing but I just got really bad vibes from him. But being a teenager and having a social life was hard enough, so I stuck it out.
He tagged along to my house a lot, as my dad was the cool dad and was either lenient, not home, or slept like a rock. My grandma had just temporarily moved in with us while she was house hunting in the area and she is an awesome woman. Pretty religious but she still knows how to bend the rules.
To put sizes into perspective, Brad is about 6′, about 180 lbs. My grandma is a petite 4’3″ woman, 80 lbs wet, super tiny. My dad is about 5’4″, 140 lbs, definitely not tall, but he’s slender and has always had very physical jobs. His muscles don’t show unless he’s working, so his strength isn’t very noticeable. Remember this, it’s important.
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Well one day Brad stopped by for a few hours to kill some time before Mary got off work. Instead of waking up the sidewalk, he walked through the dirt, trampled it through the house and took a seat at the kitchen table with my dad, my grandma and me.
My grandma noticed all the dirt he dragged in and asked him to clean it up. Being the jerk that he is, he tapped his feet together and accumulated a huge pile of dirt and just smirked at her. She glared at him, stood up, went and got the broom and shoved it into his hands. He said “This isn’t how you should treat guests.” My dad looked at him like he was trying to figure out how far the handle would go up Brad’s ass.
Brad went on to talk about how he was on the wresting team at his old high school and that he wanted to make a wager with my dad. He challenged him to a wrestling match, winner had to clean up the dirt. Brad is only 17 or so, but my dad says whatever and takes the wager.
Brad stretches and makes a big show while my dad causally sips on his vodka tonic. Dad stands up and asks Brad if he’s sure he wants to do this and Brad states that it’s not even a competition, he’s gonna kick my dad’s butt. I’ve seen my dad come home from bar fights with bloody broken knuckles against guys 3 times his size so inside I’m so goddamn giddy.
The match starts in typical wrestling fashion, crouched down, whatever, I’m not a wrestler, use your imagination. Within three seconds dad has Brad in a headlock and Brad’s face is turning red, he can’t breathe and the rest of us are laughing our asses off. Dad let’s him out and Brad comes after him again and Dad instantly pins him down, his face right next to the dirt.
Instead of making him say uncle, he makes him say broom.
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Dad lets him go and sits down and Brad sweeps the dirt into a pile and instead of using the dustpan, he smugly pushed it into the tracks of the sliding glass door. Dad slowly raised his eyebrows and started to push his chair back before Brad hurriedly rushed off and found the vacuum.
The rest of the time passed quickly and friendly, Brad and I left to get Mary and we had a fun Friday night.
On Sunday I had plans with Mary and Brad around 2pm. I woke up around 10am. Grandma asked me if I’d like to help make some cupcakes for my friends. Sure! What a nice grandma.
And then she smirks. I had never seen this kind of smirk from her and frankly it scared me a bit. She said they were revenge cupcakes and told me the plan.
One pan of cupcakes, all chocolate with chocolate frosting. On the bottom of 6 of them would be one small square of a Hersheys bar. On the bottom of the other six would be 3 squares of chocolate laxatives. I stared at her with my jaw hanging down while she was maniacally cackling. She’s so evil and I love it!
So we bake and the only way to distinguish the differences are the frosting swirls. I had filled Mary in on the plan and so everything was set.
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They show up and what teenager doesn’t love chocolate cupcakes! Mary asks for one, Brad asks for two. He takes a bite and asks what’s at the bottom? I told him it’s my grandmas recipe, she always puts a little extra hidden love in them.
Well they’re a hit and Brad eats two more. In the meantime, Brad’s mom called him home for whatever reason and I send him home with the last two which I know he finished.
I know because he didn’t show up to school for the next two days. He never found out.