Ok, Picture the Scene: It’s quite late on a Saturday night / Sunday morning. It is a dry night, surprisingly enough, considering the amount of rain we’ve had over the past few months. The moon is out – it’s very pretty actually. Dawn can’t be too far off, and the moon is illuminating the Town. A short, half-blind muppet of the female persuasion by the name of Maria, Internet handle “Mazekin” is on her way home from the pub – it was a work function - and goes into the local take away to get some food with her friends from work. She meets up with her older brother, who is quite Merry*, and slightly surprised to see his baby sister out so late but happy to see her out socialising (actual words used are ::Jaysus! You actually left the house! And you were at the PUB! He is quite happy* and after a few minutes chit-chat he leaves, after warning her to be careful walking home, things aren’t as safe as they used to be yadda yadda yadda... She sits with her friends to a nice meal of chicken burger and curry chip (quite tasty), glad to be off her feet after a serious night’s dancing and continues on talking about the usual insignificant tit-bits of gossip that float around a small town. About an hour later, having watched several fights being broken up by the Bouncers at the nightclub door (funny – people that drunk cannot connect a punch with a jaw to save their lives) she says good night to her friends & makes sure they get taxi’s ok to bring them back to their own town and bids the bouncers good night (she went to school with several of them) and ambles, quite contentedly towards home, skirting around the housing estate that you don’t want to walk through in daylight, let alone at 4am. Safely past that, she hurries along the path to the main road to avoid the place where the 2 Polish lads got stabbed last year and breaths a sigh of relief when she reaches her own street. Strange, there’s no light on in the window, but then, the brother could theoretically have gone straight to sleep. He does that, on occasion, but more often than not, she would find him asleep in an armchair the next day with the remote in one hand and the Bloomberg Stocks and Shares channel on the TV (she doesn’t ask questions about that any more, the answers never make sense). Giving a heavy sigh, thankful to be nearly home, she fishes in her bag, looking for her keys. At this point, if it was on the big screen, or on TV, eerie music would begin to play. Dogs would bark in the distance and there would be a close up shot of a bush. And the toe of a shoe poking out from beneath it. Happily oblivious to what would, in the movies, be a tension filled scene, she slips off her strappy sandals and gives a yawn, her hands full of keys, shoes and bag. As she passes the bush just inside the gate to her garden there is a quick movement beside her, and she suddenly finds a man’s arms around her, holding her tightly to him. A deep, hoarse whisper tells her “Bet you weren’t expecting that” At this point, she screams. And then screams some more, elbowing her attacker in the stomach, aiming an accurate fist full of stiletto shoes at his groin. Lights come on in the houses around her and there is the sound of running. The hunting hounds across the laneway start throwing themselves at the wooden gate, snapping and snarling like something out of a horror movie. Front doors open and men stream out, desperate to find out what was disturbing their sleep. What they find, is a man lying on gravel clutching at his middle, tears coming out of his eyes, and his baby sister standing above him threatening to beat the crap out of him with a shovel if he ever tries that again. Yes, my friends, a grown man of 33 years of age hid for an hour in a bush, in the dead of night, just to scare his sister. Debbie next door hastily ties up her dressing gown and shoos new boyfriend back inside, assuring him that no, this doesn’t happen all the time. John 2 doors down assures the police who have just arrived that nothing had happened, just a false alarm. John from the Nice Bungalow tries to shut his next door neighbour’s dogs up, accidentally letting one of them out – which then proceeds to start jumping at the complete tit who decided that jumping out at his sister at 4 in the morning was a good idea. The police give her brother a warning and the female garda whispers to her that she did a nice job of incapacitating him before they go on their way, back into the now greying dawn light to provide protection to the innocent citizens of the town. The girl gives her brother a dirty look, throws her shoes at him and goes inside, vowing never to speak to him again. Now for the question. If this happened to you, would you: A) Carry out your plan and bludgeon him to death with the shovel and rope in the neighbours he woke up to help dispose of the body? B) Tell your mother and let her dole out the punishment? C) Lace his food with a diuretic / laxative? (Keep in mind, the boy - I refuse to call him a man until he starts acting like one - is flying to the West coast of the States from Ireland on Friday and will have a very long flight ahead of him) D) Hide several alarm clocks around his room and set them to go off at 20 minute intervals throughout the night? E) Put itching powder in the washing powder for his clothes? F) Remove a component from his lap top and hide it until he buys a replacement or forks out a lot of money to get someone in to take a look at it? G) Remove several hundred DVD’s from their cases, jumble them up and put them back in different covers? Please, feel free to add punishments, the most crafty / voted for will be done (except perhaps for option A. I like living free and I don't think that I'd handle Prison very well, but I can dream… *Very Drunk
I guess the opportunity to let the police drag him off after beating him some more, later claiming in your terror you became face blind and didn't recognize him as your brother, has passed...
I think it's quite funny that he waited an hour in dark only to get a face full of shoe. Shoeing him the face, thats a good one.
Unfortunately, yes. I was too angry at the time to form a coherent sentence other than 'Thank you' and 'I'm going to kill you!'
"Thank you"? jaysus, you're becoming english. I vote for telling your mom. Then his girlfriend, if he has one. Then her mom.
Tell your Mum. Then he'll never be allowed to forget it! Ever! As for C. Do the other plane passengers really deserve it? Oh and nice reflexes. Provided your brother remembers what happened, I don't think he'll be doing it again.:smile:
I think the shame of waiting for an hour just to get your ass kicked by your little sister is more than enough. Your brothers career as a pervert was over before it started.
He thinks he was trying to make a point on how dangerous it is for me to walk home on my own at night. I think he was making a prat of himself (he didn't need to give me any further evidence) On the bright side, all the neighbours are laughing at him. Garner, I can't help it - half my family are English and I either revert to a false English accent or a thick Cork one when I'm stressed. I'm probably lucky I didn't flip into the Cork - my voice tends to go a little high pitched when I do, I talk about twice as fast and I would have woken the rest of the neighbourhood. Another thing I'm thinking of doing is to email some of his friends at work. Give them some ammo to use on him? Anything I do, though, will have to be done by Wednesday. I think if I leave it any later, the oomph factor will have died down...
I vote for telling your mum, his colleagues and everyone at his pub. I mean, dear God! Good on you, though, for the super reflexes! And yay for the helpful neighbours.
I've put a lot of thought into this by now, and considered my options. I don't think I'll tell my mom. It's too much amunition as a bribe, and since I've already used several of them this year to get him off my back (and utilised them too, just so he'd know I wasn't joking) I think I'll hold off on that one for trying to get him out of the house for good. The laxitives may be going a bit too far, I guess, I forgot about the other passengers. Why should they have to suffer? So, tomorrow, I shall be composing a nice, long email to his buddies in work, including his Team Leader, telling them what he got up to at the weekend. When he is gone to the States, I shall rearrange both his sizeable CD & DVD collection into the wrong boxes. I will also hide the 3 alarm clocks in his room for the night he gets back, set to go off at 3am, 3.15am, and then at 4am. I may, or may not disconnect the battery in his car and hide the spark plugs. I haven't quite decided on that yet, but then I've got the best part of 3 weeks to decide (and a willing accomplice in the form of my other brother who will happily do anything prank wise) and, if he doesn't bring me back a decent enough present, I will take a screwdriver to the back of his new laptop and...fiddle. That should do it, I think.
All right this was a wonderful gift to find after a hard day at work!! Mazekin, you are a treasure and your brother is a hoot! have fun! Rinso, you are also a hoot! Thanks!
Firstly, are you a fellow (ex) Corkonian?! Secondly, in fairness to him, he was langers & thought it would be a laugh. But he did go too far. I would have simply jumped out and said Boo! I like the DVD idea the best becase that's something which really annoys me aswell. Telling people he works with might be a bad idea though, since you don't want him to come off as a closet pervert & possibly ruin future promotional prospects! By the way, well done on how you reacted
Hey Jackal - Nope, but I might as well be. Both of my parents were born and grew up in Cork city. My father's family moved to London in the late 50's, and my mom moved there in the early 60's to train to be a nurse (long, convuluted story involving her kicking a dog (It went for her and she's terrified of them) just before her intervew and it turned out to be her interviewers dog...needless to say, she didn't get the placing). They met up again at a friend's wedding and fell in loooove. Moved back to Ireland at the end of the 60's and moved to Shannon which has no particular accent as it's a new town and has people from all over the country/world. A lot of the kids who grew up there tend to have their parents accents, but if they were talking to someone whose accent was different, they would adopt that accent for the duration of the conversation. Unfortunately, I can be a bit of a mimic when it comes to accents, and when stressed I tend to go straight into thick Corkonian. Rincewind, I think your idea has great merit, however i shall not do the deed myself. I wonder if my friend can persuade her new puppy to...? hmmmm.
::bows in honor of Mazekin's thoroughly bad-ass fighting skills:: If it were me in the story - um, for starters, I can't vouch for the same victorious outcome, but IF it did happen just as it did with you - I'd probably have beaten the perpetrator severely on the spot, pause to thank him for being, in a perverted way, a rather considerate brother, then beat him again, just to make sure I got all the anger out. I'm no good at serving revenge cold ... I prefer immediate violence, and then maybe a reconciliation drink afterwards.
Nah, our family goes by the motto "Revenge is a dish best served cold". And we're more vocal than physical in the fighting arts. Which is strange, 'cos the family motto is "Buailim se" which basically means "I strike him" heh heh heh... I sent the email to his friend Shane who is one of the women I work with's fiance. He will send it on to all the people in the last couple of months who he has wound up, played a trick on or embarassed. I should see results by just after lunch tomorrow. I know you guys can't see me now, but the grin on my face is very sly...
Speaking from personal experience, this is a very satisfying thing to do. Especially on a hot day into wellingtons. He deserved it, ask no more. Unfortunately, the joy of doing this was tempered by the fact that the victim did not notice, due to spending all the time he was wearing the boots up to his knees in cess-pit evacuation muck. But still, it was worth it. Mazekin, your brother sure is a jerk and enjoy all the revenge you can get. I would say, ultimately, that starting a chain e-mail with his photo and some stupid caption would be fun, but still, the problem with that is that it's not easily stoppable, and you never know who might receive it... **pictures maze's brother going for a job interview for the job of his life in a few years time and the interviewer producing a printout of aforesaid chain and asking him to explain**
Impressive mazekin:smile: I would say that his pride is already hurt enough but remember there is always glue; I suggest that you glue him to something ***cough*** toilet seat ***cough***.
Ok, I'm refusing to use the glue idea. I own this house, and if he gets stuck to anything, it's my own property he's destroying - although the idea of putting some in his slippers (large furry gorilla feet) is an idea worth thinking of. Maybe the next time he annoys me. It took 3 hours to rearrange his DVD collection:lol: and it was possibly the most enjoyable 3 hours I've spent recently. I have also hidden his box set of Star Wars and Family Guy, and completely disassembled his Lego Castle (he seriously needs to get a girlfriend.) which he has had permenantly made up since he was about 13. I'd forgotten about it until I went into his room to attack his CD's. They are now tomorrow's project. I'm not being too cruel, though. I've kept a list of what went into which case. It should keep him entertained for a while. The email I sent to his friends in work, by friday, had made it as far as the States. In fact, I received a nice mail from one of his old bosses who is now retired and relocated back to the states saying thank you. Apparently I made his week. It turns out that my brother had a very annoying habit of trying to put people off their food at lunch time. And I know for a fact that his is very good at doing that. I think that's enough for now. :biggrin: I'd like to thank you all for your kind support with this incident, and that any further suggestions will still be taken into consideration...after all, I still have 3 weeks left for devilment...
All the little horses are lined up on the top of his door frame. A lot of the little men (complete with swords and spears) are stuck above the front door with blue tack and I've put some of the more pointy pieces inside his slippers :biggrin: I may be taking this a tad too far, but I don't care. I'm getting too much of a kick out of doing this. I've left the Mr. Potato Head Darth Vader alone, though. You don't mess with the Sith. I'm also slightly afraid that it will come to life and try to kill me during the night. Damned childhood fears...
Keep in mind that some of these pieces almost certainly will break when he puts his slippers on. When legos get that old, they get brittle. Which is all to the good, where revenge is concerned. But Maz should be aware that she is permanently ruining the lego castle this way.
8.00am - Mazekin's car outside airport. M: Hey Bro, welcome back! Did you have a nice time? D: Yeah, it was great! got some cool Transformers T-shirts. M: Did you get me one? D: NO. M: Get out of my car. I have to go to work. I hate you. D: Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever. 9.30am Work - Telephone Call. D: What the Hell did you do to my Lego! M: Call it revenge. D: Call it wanton distruction! Do you know how long I've had- M: Ooops, gotta go, I'm needed for a meeting.//hang up//heh heh heh 11.30 - Work - Telephone Call. D: Sis, did you borrow my Smashing Pumpkins CD? M: No. Why would I want that? I have it myself. D: It's not in the case. M: What is in the case? D: Muse. Muse shouldn't be in this case. M: What's in the Muse Case? D: System of a Down... M: What's in the SOD case? D: Uuuuh, hang on...it's...WHAT THE HELL IS THIS DOING HERE? M: What's in the case? ::Evil Grin:: D: TAKE THAT! M: Maybe you did it yourself before you left. D: ???Huh? M: You are jet-lagged, bro and you've been up all night. Go. To. Bed. Maybe then you won't be so delusional. D: But I don't even own Take That. You don't own Take That. M: I know I don't if I did, I wouldn't be living in a crappy house having you as my lodger, now, would I? D: Huh? M: Go to sleep. 4.50pm - Work - Telephone call. D: My car won't start. M: Huh, I didn't- I don't know why your car won't start. I didn't touch it while you were gone. Maybe it's the Battery. D: Did you do something to my car? M: Nope. Hand on heart, I didn't touch your car while you were away. I promise. Get dad down to Jump Start it. D: They aren't home. M: Oh well. Gotta go. //hangs up// Well, that's fate. Didn't even have to touch the car! It did it itself :biggrin: Evening of the Next day: D: Ok, fine. I promise, I will never ever jump out at you again. Now will you give me the list for my DVD's M: And do you promise to do the washing up every day for the next fortnight? D: Sigh. Fine. Gimmie the list. M: And do the hovering. And clean the windows. And weed the front garden? D: Fine. Gimmie. M: And put down the skirting boards in the spare room like you promised when we moved in? D: I will shave your head in your sleep... M: Here's the list.
The hair is a precious thing... I was tempted to burn the Take That CD instead of giving it back to Gwen. But she'd have sulked. I was delighted about the car not starting though. I think that was a whole Karma what comes around goes around type thing. And so, the Quest for Revenge has ended. Let us go in piece. And don't touch the hair.
