If I ever run into my high school bully, don’t worry, I’ve got it all worked out. In my imagination, we meet in a bar, but since there’s no telling where and when it might happen, I’ve outlined a variety of differing scenarios.
If we cross paths on the street, the plan is to evade, then follow on behind, secret service style. Restaurant – tell the maître d’ it’s his birthday and begin drinking copiously. Hospital ward – surprisingly simple, apply microscopic pressure be it psychological, physical, or otherwise. Bathroom stall, you say? You must be kidding. Apologies, I’ve no contingency plan for meeting him with my pants down. Subway platform – the darkest, not that I would, of course. It’s the rage I’m preparing myself for, you see.
Say it happens in a bar, patience will be the name of the game. He’ll be drinking with crew – some guys never change, only ever comfortable when encircled by at least six short-haired, swinging dicks. Needless to say, approaching my high school bully in his natural habitat is off the table, if my plan is to succeed his isolation is paramount.
First thing I do after spotting my high school bully is to choose a friend. Ideally, said friend is sat at my side nursing a brewski, but if there’s no such candidate in my immediate vicinity, I’ll have no qualms reaching out, calling in favors and generally ingratiating myself. Super. Duper. Quid. Pro. Quo. You sort out my old bully, I’ll come around Sunday morning and whip up brunch, recalibrate your computer if you like, scrub your floors on my hands and knees, just so you know the full extent of my gratitude. Friendship’s a wonderful thing, don’t you think?
Once a friend has been chosen, I’ll take out my wallet and hand over the list of instructions. Don’t ask questions, I’ll say, run along and find somewhere quiet to digest the info. I may spin on my heel and walk away for dramatic effect. Here are the instructions:
- We are now total strangers.
- Do not acknowledge me with word, look, or gesture.
- Find me outside in smoking area with ‘friend’.
- Locate and light a cigarette.
- Place lit cigarette on hand of ‘friend’.
- Exert downward pressure.
- Apologize, but not too profusely.
- If ‘friend’ becomes confrontational feel free to reciprocate, otherwise walk away.
- Thank you. IOU.
(Note: please read three times, memorize if possible, then destroy)
As for my part, I’ll play it cool and sympathetic. While he’s reeling from the shock of freshly seared skin, I’ll pass over something to sooth the burn (my own concoction; butter, deep heat, lemon juice). He won’t ask questions, it’s just the sort of thing a faggot like me would keep handy. As we say goodbye, I’ll offer him the full tube, but even if he declines, a final glance at his hand will be comfort enough, a small memento of our evening together.
That’s saying we meet in a bar, of which there’s no guarantee, and like I say these sorts of situations can go any which way. And what about you? Any plans for long-lost bullies, hypothetically speaking?