Turning fifty was not traumatic for me. I ignored the gifts of denture cream, hair dye and a walker from my two daughters as gag gifts. I chuckled at the pamphlets about wills, retirement resorts and vitamins they dropped in the mail for me. I declined their offer to tour a local nursing home that was giving away a $50 gift certificate towards a wheel chair with a built-in potty that doubled as a whoopee cushion. I grinned when my son-in-law called me on an extremely hot day to see if I was all right. He laughed and hung up. I even smiled as they offered to pay for hormone replacement therapy. I shrugged off the phone call with my oldest daughter when I told her I was getting my body pierced and she asked if I didn't mean to say 'acupuncture'. I chuckled and bit my tongue when my granddaughter asked if they had telephones when I was her age. I gladly welcomed my membership to AARP.
I just smiled to myself and plotted my revenge. Raising messy teenagers gave me plenty of ideas to work with. I always told them, “Just wait 'til you have a place of your own”. All these aging jokes just put me over the edge. No more nice guy! This means war. It would begin with an overnight visit with my oldest daughter, her husband and my three-year-old granddaughter. They have a new home with new carpeting, a perfect setting for my revenge. I went to bed, plotting my agenda.
While You're Living Under My Roof…..
In the next phase, I offered to make a very complicated lunch, which meant using every pot and pan they owned. Oops, the contents were left a tad too long on the burners. I said I was sorry.
After returning the empty milk carton to the refrigerator and forgetting to close the door, I set my dirty dishes on the cocktail table and announced I was going to take a nice shower. This was my favorite phase. As I moved toward the bathroom with my semi- unloaded backpack, I kissed my cute granddaughter while she hung from the chandelier with a candy Twizzler stick dangling from her sweet mouth. Oh, and on my way to the shower, I flicked on every light switch I could find.
Once in the bathroom, I took an empty toilet paper roll from my pack and exchanged it for the full roll on the spindle. Then I preceded to take a long 30 minute hot shower, using six towels when I finished, which, oops, fell to the floor. The almost empty shampoo bottle lay on its side on the counter next to the uncapped tube of toothpaste. As I overused my hairspray, I made sure I had my back to the mirror. The trajectory was just right.
The final phase took place the next morning. I did make my bed, but only after I read a story to my granddaughter, while she ate animal crackers and chocolate ice cream over the sheets.
After hiding all of their pens, scissors, scotch tape, and toilet paper, it was time to leave. I said my good-byes. My final victory was leaving the door wide open. I knew the air conditioner was on.
You know what? Dreams do come true and revenge is sweet. I woke up smiling as I grabbed the phone and called my daughter. “Honey, I'm coming for a visit”.
Sweet Revenge
I loaded my backpack with ammunition. I borrowed a friend's old car and removed the muffler. They live in a nice quiet neighborhood.
Upon arriving at their driveway, I parked the car precisely in front of the garage blocking any cars that were parked in it. Before getting out, I changed from tennis shoes and donned a pair of gardening boots caked with fresh, wet mud. Exiting the car, I removed an old bike from the trunk, which I laid on the driveway near the front door.
I grinned to myself, backpack in hand, and barged in the front door without knocking, boots and all. I entered onto the newly laid carpeting. I was greeted by my granddaughter and gave her a handful of candy loaded with high-energy sugar. I told her that I had a neat toy lawn mower for her with bells and a loud popping noise. I would give it to her tomorrow morning.. at 5 A.M.
As she ran off, stuffing her sweet lips with pure sugar, my daughter appeared from the kitchen shouting, “Wipe your feet”! And so I did.
Judging by the look on her face, this visit was going be a great success.
Later in the day, phase two took place quite nicely. After unpacking some of my 'ammo', I chose the six-pack of their favorite brand of pop and a seven-day old pizza carton complete with dried moldy pieces of pizza I had brought from home. The carton I stashed under the spare bed. I had special plans for the pop.
While my daughter was doing laundry in the basement, I opened six cans of ice-cold pop, and with two sips taken out of each one. I then distributed them on the bare wooden living room and den tables. Without coasters. It was a very humid day.
