Are you a grudge holder? One who gets mad, either for good reason or no good reason, and then hangs onto it forever and ever, amen?
When a relationship ends in your little corner of the world, do you Google "Old Gypsy Woman Spell Casters" in hopes of removing your ex from the ranks of the breathing? Or at the very least, cause them to grow a third nipple...on the end of their nose?
When someone does a wrong thing to you, do you swear that vengence is yours, sayeth you, and then call down lightening upon their heads?
To be honest, I'm not really one to hold a grudge. I've been wronged by some of the great wrongdoers of our time and yet my "I hate you" list is really all but nonexistent. I get mad or hurt or plain PO'd, but then in a day or two, I'm way over it. I figure I have better things to do with my time than remain angry, like practice my fire baton twirling.
A good fire baton twirler is a practiced fire baton twirler. And of course, an angry fire baton twirler is a fire baton twirler in a burn unit.
However forgiving I may be of people who screw with me, I'm not nearly as Protestant towards people who hurt one of my kids.
I find that since my little Kitten has been hurting so badly after her wisdom teeth ordeal, when I'm not worrying about her, I am plotting new and completely illegal things to do to the 13 year old Doogie Dentist that allowed this to happen.
While I'm not necessarily an expert at holding a grudge, I think it would be safe to say that I will remain angry at this little one-eyed jack leg dentist until I am eighty-nine at least. I'm not talking normal angry either. I'm talking crazy, mentally ill, mustard and biscuits kind of angry.
Lifetime movie of the week angry, even. "Why I Cut Off the Penis of a One-Eyed Jack Leg: the Sherri Bailey Story", starring Pamela Anderson as me and Billy Bob Thornton as Doogie Dentist. It'll be a big, big hit.
I want to hurt him in some deep and meaningful way for not taking better care of my daughter. No page full of written after care instructions, no antibiotics in the days prior to the surgery, no after hours contact information when she took a turn for the worst, not even an answering machine he could have bought at Target for $19.99 to tell us where to find him.
"Tell me how to take care of my daughter," I said to him after he had finished and Kitten was sitting in what he called recovery and I called a chair.
"My nurse will talk to you," the boy who has only to pluck the odd hair from his chin every morning replied. He was far too important an individual to impart after care instructions. Why that's women's work.
"He's not very good at that kind of thing," said his nurse about his attitude.
"No. He's not," said angry me.
(BTW, when Kitten called this week to make them aware that she had to be hospitalized and would be out of work for at least a week due to the complications, the nurse said to my daughter, "Swelling is normal". No "I'm sorry", no "I'll have Doogie call your new oral surgeon to find out what's going on", no nothing. The "normal swelling" she referred to is not what is going on with Kitten at all.)
Because my husband is a cop and because some of my closest friends are cops/dispatchers and other people who work in and around the law, I have better sense than to blog here what I would like to do to this juvenile.
But know that the revenge I would wish to deliver would be both brutal and fantastic at the same time, much like a car wreck you can't help but look at even though it makes you a little queasy. There may even be some acrobatics and pulleys involved.
In fact, such is the grudge I hold for this man, I fear not only for his safety but for my own as it's reasonable to believe that I am developing an ulcer even as I type from all the anger I'm swallowing.
I'm pissed. That's all I'm saying. Flat out, all American, blood pressure rising, take the time to learn the science of plastic explosives, freaking mad.
This grudge is for you, Doogie Dentist. You're welcome.
If you don't love this song, I don't even know what to say.
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