I remember being so mad at an ex-boyfriend that I wanted really bad things to happen to him.
Not anything super horrible or fatal, but just annoying things.
Like, I hoped his next girlfriend would have really, really bad B.O.
Or that he’d get athlete’s foot.
Or a massive speeding ticket.
But no matter how angry I was, I never actually made any of these things happen (although now that I think about it, they would all be unique challenges).
My friend Nicole’s boyfriend, Robert, didn’t have that same filter.
He got so mad at her that he threw all of her things outside the front of his house and set them on fire.
Oh, he made that a reality.
Charred Chanel, ya’ll!
Nicole and Robert were in college, and had dated for almost a year. Nicole spent a lot of time at his apartment, and spent almost every night there. As such, the things she kept there were pretty much things she used regularly.
Class textbooks. Running shoes. iPod. Phone charger.
They were in a fight because he was drunk and wanted to drive his car home, and she told him not to and took his keys.
After an escalating fight, where he swatted at her to get his keys, the bouncer told Robert to leave and told Nicole to “give the asshole his keys.”
Nicole got a call from him a short time later, telling her that he was in the process of throwing all of her things out on the front lawn.
She couldn’t come over immediately, because Robert was her ride.
When she finally got in touch with a friend who could pick her up from the bar and drive her to Robert’s house, at least an hour had passed.
It was dark, and when she arrived she saw her things in a pile across the lawn.
When she walked over, she thought she saw black dirt on top of her stuff.
“Great! He covered my stuff in dirt!” she actually told her friend. But then she smelled something…odd…
She looked down and saw that all of her things weren’t covered in dirt. They had turned to ash.
A piercing scream later, and Nicole started banging on Robert’s door.
“YOU BURNED MY FUCKING THINGS!?!?!??!?!!”
He chided her through the window – oh, you like that!! You like that!! He was saying. He didn’t open the door.
Robert’s pre-mediated vision was coming true. Here she was screaming as all of her things were now charred flakes, blowing away in the wind. HIS PLAN WORKED!
Not part of his plan?
Nicole calling the cops.
The cops were probably already on their way over, since the impromptu bonfire and screaming was definitely a “disturbance.”
When they showed up, Nicole showed them the ash pile, and HOLY BUZZKILL they made Robert come outside.
His arrogance faded when THEY HANDCUFFED HIM and made him sit on the stoop while talking to Nicole about the value of everything that burned.
She had never called the cops before, and was nervous and angry.
It didn’t help when Robert looked over at her at that exact moment, STILL HANDCUFFED , and said, “I can’t believe you’re doing this to us!”
If the cops had a sense of humor, I’m sure they would have laughed at that.
Now, I certainly don’t condone an unwarranted guilt trip, but this one worked for Robert.
Nicole declined to press charges, and the cops told her that if they were called back to that apartment, they’d BOTH be arrested.
(In my opinion, not pressing charges was far too kind of her. She should have burned him like he burned her…phone charger.)
Perhaps this could be a lesson in restraint.
I know it feels really good to wish annoying things upon someone you’re mad at, like them needing to buy all new textbooks a week before the final exams.
Or seeing them attempt to still wear running shoes that could only be described as “medium-well.”
But destruction of property can, and will, bite you in the ass. It’s probably a good idea to stay away from arrestable offenses altogether.
I’d stick to the athlete’s foot thing.
Fungus ain’t illegal.
P.S. Sorry, y’all, about my first Wednesday posting of a Toolbag Tuesday! I’ll do better next week. I mean, it’s already Thursday evening in Singapore (for those of you who like to Google “world clock”…for…uh…fun.)
One thought on “TOOLBAG TUESDAY”
what an ashhole