Boris Wye and the definition of revenge


The philosophy of revenge is something that is seldom sweet and based in bitterness, but can fire you with a quick shot of satisfaction that is about as worthless as a dodgy note. That said, when someone ate Boris Wye's lunch on board 'The Clevedon Rose' - a canal boat on the Leeds-Liverpool - there was hell to pay and we all enjoyed the vicious retribution.

It turned out that Mike Plainer, a nasty little shit of a security guard, had given Boris's steak and pickle butties to his illiterate dog, Hamlet. It didn't take long for Boris to work out who had taken his lunch as Mike was keen to crow about it. That night as Hamlet was given a bran and wheat supper with a little bit of laxative, Boris entered 'The Lord Byron' and headed to the snug where we all sat. Mike was in the bar, his three striped shirt and clip on tie looking a couple of sizes too small. He laughed with his pack and ordered more drink. His bald head greased with sweat.

Keen not to be noticed, Boris crept into the toilet with Mike's hat. He had been talked out of leaving a pipe in the hat and instead opted for something with a little more staying power. He had borrowed some permanent dye from one of the factories on the canal and had mixed it with some Vaseline. Using a wooden spoon he smeared the inside of the hat with the mixture, careful not to discolour his own fingers. He crept back to the bar and left the hat back. No one noticed as there was visibly nothing different: Mike's hat was always full of grease.

That evening, Mike pulled his cap tight over his head and went to get Hamlet who was wimpering like a child. The wolf dragged him all the way home: Mike working up a sweat, continually wiping his brow and running his hand over his head. The dye now sinking into his scalp, his forehead, his hands, the back of his neck, the middle of sweating, pores open back, down the crack of his arse, between the cleavage of his manbreasts, around the sunken belly button and along the elasticated mid-drift of his pants.

When he awoke he looked like a fat berry. Purple is the colour of revenge.

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This page contains a single entry by Bobby Beamer published on April 1, 2004 11:01 PM.

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