revenge in the driveway
/Since we both recently read the best revenge story of all time, The Count of Monte Cristo, I feared Ray would plot his payback after he learned I hit his newish car in the driveway. Immediately, I ran to the seafood market and grabbed an Alaskan king crab leg, nearly $60 a pound. The thing totally disturbs me and makes me feel sad, but not him. And since I was about to reveal that while he was pedaling his two-wheeler in his short bike pants, I hit his fancy Volvo because, well, because I forgot to look behind me, I thought I’d better be ready with a coveted offering when I got on my knees and begged.
The dent was only minor, the scratch superficial, but I knew he’d slap one hand on his forehead, his eyes would bulge, his breath would get loud and short, and he’d walk with slow, giant, aching strides to the scene of the event.
I shuddered and pondered. Should I quickly grab smelling salts?
The Count of Monto Cristo is one of a handful of long books that made a resurgence at our house during the pandemic when there was more time to read. Yet I’m aware golden oldies like this can have a downside. They can inspire us to plot destruction on others, like me, who plain screw-up.
In the classic story -- slow, methodical and sweet revenge is taken on those who sent the Count to prison on false charges. We learn about endless ways a victim can make his culprits desperately miserable, if they have years of patience and an amount of cash that would make Jeff Bezos and Bill Gates look poor.
Ray certainly didn’t fall into that category, but I thought the book may have given him ideas I simply couldn’t predict, like pouring water on my car seat or perhaps changing the radio stations.
The Count of Monto Cristo wasn’t the only vintage literature we tackled these pandemic months. I also read War and Peace and was reminded that even at the worst of times -- like bashing into your mate’s car -- peace can eventually reign again, I could only hope.
And we both finally read Crime and Punishment, again revealing a timeless message that suddenly struck me to the core: Somehow, in some way, you will pay.
After handing over the poor crab leg, asking him to close his eyes because I had two surprises -- one a treat and one a confession -- and after watching him stride slow motion to the car, I had to endure all sorts of head shaking, mainly because the dent was minor. If it was not -- like the dent I suddenly recalled he gave me a few years back -- the response would have unleashed far more venom.
And just like that, that similar event in reverse flashed before my eyes. Maybe this, after all, was my own long-awaited revenge. A-ha!
On that past occasion, he rushed off to work after crushing my side door, never confessing until I called him to report an unidentified hit and run at our house. Not even an offering on bended knees, did I receive -- no flowers, nothing.
Sweet revenge, I thought, smiling under his scowl. Gotcha! The Count would be proud.
Except, after his car was washed and waxed, the Count would have been disappointed to learn the Volvo didn’t look so bad and my own car, the poor Honda that did the dirty work, looked worse.
Got me! Again!
Disasters, certainly, are aplenty, and of course none of this adds up to the calamitous crises of these iconic books. Still, next time we want to read a tale together -- just in case -- I think I’ll suggest something light, humorous, and refreshingly forgiving.
Moby Dick?