by Dan Brady
Mr. Misadventure, A synopsis:
A set of six tales that depict a character that realizes his fantasies of revenge upon those who, in his mind, deserve disrespect, embarrassment, impoverishment, pain and suffering, assault and battery.
Look I want to tell you
something, I am a complex guy. A man, no, a man's man. And that is
what is going to burn you up. And you know what, I don't care at all.
I mean, who the hell are you anyway, and I don't have to explain what
I do or who I am. So, unless you want some of the trouble that I am
capable of, I suggest, you just make up your mind to accept me as I
am and know that I am around.
Mr. Misadventure, An Excerpt.
A Pain in the Neck.
Ya know I was just walking to work on a hell of a Monday morning through the tenderloin. When this burly jerk comes up from behind me and not only brushes me as he passes by but juts out his elbow out, clearly on purpose. He got a good deep dig just below my ribs. I blinked back tears as I took a shuddering breath to recover, but I saw him push his way through the crowd, and oblivious to the wake he was creating. I mean, where the hell is the fire buddy, or do you have the runs have to get to the john?
His angular posture, expensive suit, and full of steam kind moxey got to me, it was as if he were saying: "All right world, anyone in my way better watch out! And you, yeah you," he was saying to me," you little worthless prick you, because you are such a yutz take this parting shot ass hole, and get on back so I can get on my way."
Well I wasn't having any of that, crap, believe you me. I double timed until I was beside him. He had that rough, chiseled look, a jutting square jaw, and looked intently strait ahead, gazing. He was muttering to himself, clearly in a single minded hurry. So, I thought a moment, and then, I tripped him up good. It was a moment of inspiration for I quickly acted as though I wanted to break his fall but got a grip near his collar and applied pressure to a major surface artery causing him to faint and continued the pressure until his pulse slackened and I knew he'd passed out.
I yelled, "Help, my friend, his heart, help me!". While the crowd gathered and chaos ruled, I pulled his wallet, glanced at his license, and nicknamed him. I was going to be his "concerned friend". A policeman shoved his way through the crowd. I heard some one say she called 911 on her cell phone. By then I had cleaned out his pockets. I was going to "do up" Raymondo, as he was known to those at the scene, Raymondo, my client.
I told the cop he'd had seizures before. I am good at near hysterics and I hammed it up. He reassured me that help was a few minutes away. I spoke in disjointed phrases, and held my hands to my head. I picked up his briefcase as I gave this performance. I gave false information about Raymondo to the officer and was asked little about myself to which vague or misleading answers seemed to suffice. When the medics arrived they talked to the officer so I stepped aside pretending to call his "son" on the cell phone in the briefcase.
(to be continued...)
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