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I figured that someone somewhere would make her pay. I felt a slight bit of guilt about making a false accusation but I ignored it. This woman was evil and had to be stopped. Fight fire with fire, that’s my motto. When necessary, fight evil with evil. I bet you dollars to pesos that if those in charge of administering justice molested the molesters, raped the rapists and killed the killers, crooks would think twice about doing the shit they do. I support the death penalty by the way. I just wish they’d execute evil white guys and the more notorious women criminals as often as they executed minority males. I don’t discriminate. I hate everyone equally. The summer ended, and I returned to Toronto a bit wiser and a lot meaner. I’m happy to say that a week after I got home, my aunt Gamina called my dad and spent an hour whining to her little bro about how she got fired from her job at the nursing home. Talk about poetic justice, I thought. Cry me a river, you evil bitch. And that’s how. No, I must have imagined it. I hung it up and went to put the kettle on. Friday, I thought. One day to go till the party. I made my coffee and sat out on the balcony. I needed sunglasses it was so bright. I went inside to find them and the phone rang again. "Hello? Angelo?" Nothing. Not even breathing. "Hello?" I asked. "Hello?" "Must be a wrong number," I grumbled, and hung up. I found my sunglasses and was on the way back outside when the phone rang again. "Hello? Roger Moore here, who's there?" Nothing again. I rolled my eyes and hung up. I'd only been sitting outside for a few minutes, when the phone rang again. I picked it up in a huff. "Listen you stupid prick, if you keep this..." "Roger?" "Um, hello?" It was a female. "Roger?" It sounded like Chantelle. "Chantelle?" "Yes it's Chantelle, how many others are there?" she asked, giggling. "It depends what day it is," I smiled. She laughed again. "What was that all about?" "Just a heavy breather, nothing to worry about." "I see....
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