

 
    

                 THE SWEET TASTE OF REVENGE 

                             by

                        Joe Whatever



"But I don't do drugs!" Tracy pleaded.  "I never saw that baggie 
before in my life."  Principal Alec Walker smiled.  It was hard to 
believe that the gangly, frightened student frantically protesting 
her innocence was the same young woman who had turned down his 
mortgage application last week.
 
Alec fumed as he recalled the smartly dressed young bank executive 
lounging behind her desk as she ridiculed his "pathetic paycheck" 
and "powerless, pitiful" job.  The humiliated principal had 
examined Tracy's old school file that very night and had been 
delighted to discover that her principal had neglected to sign 
the credit transfer forms for her European exchange jaunt.  As a 
result, she was 3 credit-hours short of a valid high school 
diploma.  Principal Walker generously agreed not to call Yale, 
Harvard, or her boss at the bank...IF she agreed to immediately 
take a leave of absence from the bank and make up the time in 
summer school. 

Since Tracy had to live in the district, she was forced to move 
in with Alec's hateful Aunt Wanda, whose motto was, "MY house, MY 
rules!"  The authoritarian aunt had confiscated Tracy’s checkbook, 
credit cards, identification, and car keys.  The proud and 
independent young executive now had a daily list of household 
chores, a minuscule allowance, and a strict curfew.  And her 
spiteful "Auntie" also insisted that Tracy "dress the part" -- 
which meant that Tracy was now standing in front of her nemesis 
dressed in a midriff-baring "Dawson's Creek" t-shirt, tight blue 
jean short-shorts, white socks, and a cheap pair of Keds.
  
Principal Walker smiled.  Now it was Tracy's turn to squirm in 
front of HIS desk.  "If you were under 18, I might let you off 
with just an expulsion," he lectured solemnly.  "But this 
quantity of drugs means you're dealing, and that means jail time."  

Tracy bit her lip and clenched her fists in frustration as she 
pleaded for mercy.  He let her twist before finally relenting.  
"Well, we MIGHT avoid the police...if you agree to be treated like 
the spoiled, willful, disobedient teenager you really are instead 
of the sophisticated adult you pretend to be."  She gasped when 
he took the paddle out of the desk drawer and crooked his finger 
to order her forward.  With agonizing slowness, he unsnapped and 
unzipped Tracy's shorts and teasingly worked them to her knees. 
"Is Winnie the Pooh your favorite, Tracy?" he taunted as he traced 
his finger across the print on her childish underpants.  "They're 
so CUTE!  It's a shame they have to come down." 

		******************************

Alec watched in amusement as the tearful Tracy, pants and 
underpants still at half-mast, fidgeted nervously in the corner 
and tried desperately not to rub her crimson fanny.  Chuckling, 
he took that plastic bag that he'd planted in Tracy's locker and 
emptied the table sugar into his coffee.  

Sugar's sweet, and so's revenge.



Edited by C. Lakewood
 




