Frustration fantasies

After a hard day, a strange thought ran through my mind last night: "Boy, if I hit the lottery, or had a terminal illness, I could call all the people who drove me crazy and let them know. There's probably a better chance of getting sick than ever nailing the Powerball numbers, and I could on top of it all could make them feel terrible."

A cancer fantasy? Probably the most juvenile thought that's run through my mind since leaving the stroller. But this blog exists so that those thoughts I can't express in "real life" have an outlet, so ...

"Hi, Dan? This is Guy." ... "Yep, high school. You gave me a pretty hard time back then." ... "Oh, yeah, you weren't serious, sure. Well, I just wanted you to know what a rotten piece of filth you are." ... "Why am I telling you this now? I've got a brain tumor the size of a baseball."

"Dave, hello, it's Guy formerly with your insurance provider." ... "You'll have a new agent soon. Remember a few years ago when you used me for two sessions of two-plus hours each to basically give you a free insurance lesson and get you some loans because you were unemployed? Yeah. Then you got that great job as a VP at the bank, and I asked you to take a small policy on your daughter, who has no insurance?" ... "Well, you said it was reasonable, but then you looked at me like some kind of jerk because I had the nerve to actually try to sell big important you a policy?" ... "Sure, you're my best friend when you need me, aren't you?" ... "I just wanted you to know that you are the biggest skinflint cheapskate I have ever encountered in my career. You'll be happy to know that I'm riddled with lymphatic tumors and will never bother you again."

"Hey June - Guy Haraldsson." ... "You interviewed me this year. For a Catholic company, you sure blew me off in a cruel way. I took it pretty hard." ... "Well, I'll be sure to remind Jesus of your behavior when this blood disease I have kills me in six months."