It was a Saturday night and the middle of winter which in this part of the country means that standing outside long enough will cause the neurons in your brain to ice over, freezing your thoughts. Only the most desperate, die-hard alcoholics with nothing better to do in their lives will make the trek out to the local watering hole to drink beer, shoot some pool and hang out with their friends.
So I was at Stanley’s Pub at 9pm on Saturday night with the outside temperature being well into the single digits, hanging out with my friends: Patrick (the guy who considers himself the leader but he ain’t), Chuck (the sweetest, biggest, huggable bear of a man you’d ever meet), Mitch (considers himself the ladies’ man but he ain’t), Richard (the joker) and Jim the Bartender (a grizzled, old, wizard-bearded motherfucker who practically seems to live there; in hindsight, none of us actually know who Stanley is).
About 2 beers in, Patrick starts coming up with the idea of swapping personal records. This is an old habit of his and usually pops up more often in the winter. Not that we mind; it’s a good conversation starter and you learn more about each other that way. Dumbest thing you’ve done on a dare, who’s in your spank bank, this week’s topic was, “Name a time when you were the villain in someone else’s story.” He gives us a couple to think about and then we pass around to chat up the stories. (Mine is that time that I cheated on my girlfriend and then tried to gaslight her that the underwear she found in my bedroom was actually hers. I’m not proud of it.)
When the topic gets to Chuck, he stops dead, thinks for a moment and shakes his head: “Sorry, fellas, I got nothing.”
Patrick: “Bullshit! Not even once?”
Chuck shifts a bit: “Sorry, drawing a blank here.”
Patrick: “Oh, COME ON!”
This goes on for a few minutes but Chuck doesn’t budge. See, when I say that this guy is the sweetest, biggest, huggable bear of a man you’d ever meet, this is both who he is and who he wants to be if that makes sense. Patrick and Richard are convinced that this lovability is more of a front and that no one can be this saintlike. But apparently so. As much as we can tell, Chuck is a guy who just wants to go to work, drink beer, watch football and occasionally get laid. When that happens, it’s literally because of that aforementioned personality. So when he says that he’s never been the villain in someone else’s story, I’m inclined to believe him.
As the night goes on, the guys steadily go home one by one, each daring to brave the Hellish cold outside. I guess I’m a bit more of a pussy than the rest because the last two left drinking are myself and Chuck. By now we’re 12 or 13 beers in, I damn near lost count. That awkward period when it’s just two people left who aren’t quite sure what to talk about begins to set in. I decide to break the silence with the only thing that I can think of:
“So, earlier, when you said that you’ve never done anything evil, is that true or did you just not want to get a hard time from Pat and Dick?”
Chuck chuckles chortily.
“Well, I mean, who really wants to answer that question truthfully, you know?”
“So, you have?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Me and Chuck stare off at each other. I can’t read him. Jim breaks the silence.
“Either shit or get off the pot, Chuck.”
Chuck takes a swig of his beer and thinks for a moment. After what feels like forever but may have only been about 20 seconds in, he chimes in:
“Well, I got one story, I suppose. But I don’t know if it would count. The person I did it to totally had it coming so I can’t say I was really the villain.”
“Okay, now you gotta tell us.”
“Sure. But this stays between the three of us, right?”
Me and Jim look at each other, wondering what the Hell we did that loosened him enough to confess. Probably the beer. I look back at Chuck.
“Of course, man.”
Chuck turns to Jim. “You too?”
Jim shrugs. “Sure.”
Chucks takes another swig of beer. “Alright. This actually happened just yesterday. Well, about a month ago for the story’s beginning though. Let’s see…”
==========
My baby sister, Patty, works downtown in the city. We don’t see each other as much as we would like but we still try to meet up when we can. About a month ago, I headed on in to visit her, crash at her place, see the sights, catch up, you know how it goes. That Friday, she apparently had some sort of work engagement or something so she invited me to come with. I probably wouldn’t fit in but I figured why not? Maybe I could make a new friend? Worst case scenario, I get a free dinner. So I dressed up, tried to look my spiffiest and we went out for the night.
While I’m there, she introduces me to all her friends and coworkers, none of whom really matter. The one that does matter for the sake of this story is her manager, Dianne. She was pretty hot but, oh my God, she was such a wicked, hardass bitch. And I mean the word, bitch.
From the moment she met me, I instantly knew I would never be good enough for the likes of her. She started talking all about her stock portfolios and whatever crap and then decided to ask me about mine. When I told her I didn’t have any, she made some passive-aggressive comment about how we’re apparently not all good enough to have some or some shit like that. Totally uncalled for.
At first, I thought maybe she was just trying to be a tease or something. I wanted to take her aside to let her know that it wasn’t cool. Instead, when I offered to buy her a drink, she just laughed in my face. And I mean literally LAUGHED in my face. Like she just gave the wicked little cackle like the idea was hilarious to her. When I told her she was out of line she just started mimicking me and told me to shush up.
Who the Hell is this bitch to talk to me like that? Like seriously! I might not be as high and fancy and what not but I know some manners at least. I talked to Patty afterwards and she said that Dianne’s been like this to everyone around the office. Just treating it like her own little mansion where she can lord over everyone else. Apparently, I’m not the first one she picked on. But, after dropping my sister off, I decided I would do a little something to make sure that I’d be the last.
I decided to stay in the city for a bit to see what I could do to teach her a lesson. Now, if I was a worse man, some men might kill her for saying something like that. Others might try to torch her house but I’m not about that kind of stuff, you know? So, instead I just got into my car, drove it to where they worked and just parked outside for a little bit. Waited for the work day to end, saw Dianne get into her Prius - of course she drives a fucking Prius, can you believe this bitch? - and tailed her a little bit. She didn’t notice a thing.
Now, I know what you’re thinking and don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t stalking her. I mean, I guess I was but I was just trying to spook her a little bit. Make her think that maybe one of her many enemies that I know she’s made might be watching her, you know? I kept on her to see how long it’d take for her to figure it out but she never did. The conceited bitch probably doesn’t notice anything on the road besides her own mug in the rear-view mirror.
She eventually pulled into her place, which was not nearly nice enough to be worth her attitude, and I just parked outside for a bit. Just stayed there trying to see if she would get the message. But, of course, she didn’t. Any other girl would’ve come out and tried to chew me out, giving me a chance to give her a piece of my mind. But not Dianne, no. She’s just so wrapped up in her own little world that she wouldn’t notice if Ted Bundy was parked outside her house.
I repeated this for the next couple days or so but each time, she never noticed, not even when my car was on her ass for the whole drive. I mean how frustrating is this?! I just want to get a word with her and she’s too conceited to even notice. I mean, what if I was a guy who wanted to hurt her?! What if one of her other enemies was trying to beat her up? How stupid is this broad? After enough of this, I decided it was time to teach her an even stronger lesson.
On the 4th day, I drove to her place. I went around 2 in the afternoon, I mean she wouldn’t be home until like 6 so I figured it’d be fine. I popped the window, expecting to hear an alarm or something. Nothing. Nada. Not a thing. So I strolled in, moved some furniture and dipped on out of there.
I drove around the city a few times to make sure I’d bail before coming back in the evening. Was there a police officer? A car? Nothing as far as I could tell. This dumbass actually had someone break into her place and still couldn’t put two and two together. Can you believe her? I mean really? Clearly, she needed something more direct if she was going to actually get the message.
So that brings us to yesterday. I decided to repeat the same process but this time I stuck around a little bit. Wanted to see if I could do anything else to really put the fear of Jesus in her. Again, if I was a bit more of an asshole, I might’ve done more damage, maybe stolen something but, you know me, I’m not really about that. I went down into the basement and tried to see if I could maybe turn off a surge protector but then I got a little tired. You know, how it goes sometimes. So I decided to just sit down and take a rest.
When I finally decided to move again, it must’ve been incredibly late in the evening. Maybe close to midnight. I didn’t want to wake anyone, let alone Dianne, so I went up the stairs as slowly as I could. I made so little noise you could probably have heard a mouse rip ass. I tried to make a beeline for the door but something just came over me. Anger, frustration, whatever. I mean, look, you know me, I’m a good guy but even when you’re doing something devious, you want people to notice.
When I started to hear her snore gently, I just lost it. I’d been in her house for literally hours and she still hadn’t done anything. I guess I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I put on my mask, went straight into her room, gagged her with the duct tape I brought with me and then turned her over and taped her hands together too. That certainly woke her ass up and got her attention, let me tell ya. Left her feeling as small as she made me and so many other people, I’m sure. She deserved worse but because I’m a good enough guy, I decided to go easy on her. Anyone else might’ve killed her. Most would probably have raped her. I mean her shorts in her pajamas were short enough, I could see why. Some sick fucks might’ve done both. But I’m not about that, you know. I just wanted to scare her a little bit.
So I put her in my duffel bag and carried her out to my car. The thin bitch was small enough that I didn’t even notice. Put her into the trunk, drove off and decided to drive for a little bit. Not too long, didn’t want her to suffocate, just long enough to get the message.
I eventually pulled over by where the 46 meets the 44 at about 2 in the morning and decided that was far enough. I opened the trunk, took her out and told her the directions back to the city and let her go free. Left the tape on to make it a little harder for her to hitchhike - didn’t want to let her off too easy y’know - but a girl as hot as that will make do somehow, I’m sure. Life’s never been too tough for people like Dianne.
I gave her a blanket too since I know how cold it is but if it fell off, well that her’s own damn fault, isn’t it? It’s not like it snowed today or yesterday either so I’m sure she’d be fine…
==========
As Chuck finished his story, I couldn’t believe what the Hell I was hearing. Like, I’m no angel but holy shit. I looked at Jim and, while he didn’t show it, I could sense that he was equally taken aback. I mean, Chuck did this? I mean, sure, we’ve all daydreamed about doing this to someone we hate but never, NEVER would I have even dreamed of kidnapping someone. This was asinine, this was unbelievable, this was-
“Chuck, are you blowing smoke up our asses?”
Jim interrupted my thoughts with a thought I never thought - I think.
Chuck paused for a bit before belting out a shit-eating grin.
“You should see the look on your faces.”
“Get the fuck out of here, Chuck!”
Chuck let out a mean, little bellow as my face turned red, feeling both relieved and like an idiot. Of course, this motherfucker was busting our balls. The idea of someone as big as Chuck being sneaky enough to be a kidnapper is like saying that you wouldn’t notice a loud, wet fart during a moment of silence. He knows I lived near where the 46 and the 44 intersect so he was trying to spook me on my way home. And the bastard hates his sister too. The idea that he would ever do something like this for her is ridiculous.
We paid our tabs and started on our way home. Me and Chuck hugged it out then began driving. You might shame me for drinking and driving but fuck you, I got bills to pay and it’s late enough that no one’ll give a shit.
As I drove home, listening to my radio, I thought back on Chuck’s story. It was a good one. It’s definitely the kind of campfire tale you could file away for the future. I’d need to twist it a bit to fit myself better but there’ll be time for it.
Then I realized two things at once and I don’t know which hit me first:
The fact that not once did Chuck ever say that he gave Dianne slippers or shoes along with that blanket.
Or that, this morning, out by the intersection of the 46 and the 44, there was a trail of bloody footprints in the snow by the side of the road.