The Travel Diva

Vengeance is sweet

About 15 years ago I worked with a German in Nairobi. Herman Schmee was his name. Short, squat, rotund and greasy, he looked like a troll. He was a creep—and he had a thing for me, the kind of thing which, till this day, gives me the shivers.

Nairobi is not the kind of place you’ll find much of in the way of luxury, so I am certain you’ll appreciate why I cherished the Swiss chocolates my boss brought me from his European trip.

I unwrapped the beautifully presented red-bowed box and hid it in the bottom ‘personal’ drawer of my desk. I treated myself to only one chocolate every day. After three days I found eight chocolates had in fact been removed, but I could only account for three of them. I knew who had taken the rest, of course, but would have difficulty proving it: Schmee the Shmuch! He was always scratching about in my office, but he hadn’t reckoned on me knowing. He had recently gotten hold of my ‘little black book’ which I left at work by mistake and called all the phone numbers listed next to the male names, asking how they knew me and if we had, at one point or another, had a relationship. I found this out because he had called both my brother and my cousin. So, with this still fresh in mind, a plan of action began to form. I put the box of chocolates in my handbag and spent the rest of the day planning my revenge.

After I left the office, I stopped off at a pharmacy and a grocer and then went home and spent the evening making chocolates in a special mold I had picked up at the store. I made only almond flavoured soft cantered ones, like those he had selected. I was rather impressed with my chocolate making skills and put them in the box that came from Switzerland. The next morning I put the box back in my personal drawer.

I checked after I returned from a meeting and discovered four chocolates had been lifted. I did not have to look far to see the culprit, you see Schmee sat in the area outside my office, his desk facing my door.

Within 15 minutes I saw my recipe was taking effect. I had dosed the soft almond centres with concentrated laxatives.

With four chocolates in his stomach, Schmee had consumed the equivalent of 12 doses of laxatives and every few minutes he’d dash off to the loo. After about an hour he was sweating profusely and looked quite frantic.

The following day, I asked him what it was he had eaten that could have caused his distress… and offered him another chocolate. He fled.

Labels: chocolate, laxative, revenge, vengeance

posted by Cindy-Lou Dale @ Thursday, February 05, 2009