Chapter 4

I called a meeting at the farm with dad, Betty, and uncle Sal, where I told them the whole story and played the relevant portions of the recordings. Sal immediately said, “We have to tell the cops, they are plotting a murder.”

“I know that,” I replied, “but I want revenge, I want my pound of flesh.” That’s when I realized that I was a vengeful SOB. I though about that for a while and realized that I was ok with it.

“We understand that baby,” said Betty, “but we have to call the cops.”

“I know someone,” Sal said, “he’s a detective on the local force, and from time to time we help each other out. To prevent the murder of the daughter of a prominent citizen would be a real feather in his cap.”

Sal made a few calls and set up a meeting. After viewing the recordings, the cops decided to set up a sting. The hit man was going to be a detective who would record Dr. Prick making the deal to have his wife killed. They would wait to make the arrest until I got my revenge; as long as I promised not to kill anyone (both detectives involved had divorced cheating wives). I could see uncle Sal’s fingerprints all over that deal, God bless him.

A week later, the day before the two adulterers had their regular mid-week romp in my bed; the cops had the evidence they needed. Now, as per our deal, it was my turn. I had watched the house for several weeks to find out how the get togethers happened. They had quite a neat little system going, Dr. Prick would park in a camping area in the state forest about 200 yards behind my house. Then he would, un-noticed by anyone, hop over our chain link fence, and sneak in the back door.

We came up with a plan, and it had all of us laughing our asses off. Sal got some barbed nail plates from a source about which he refused to talk. These things were plates about four inches long and two wide, that would screw to a surface, the ends held spikes about an inch and a half high with nasty barbs on them (goggle barbed nail plates). Dad and I, with Betty’s eager help, screwed the plates all over a sheet of used plywood that we picked up at the dump. We were ready for what we called operation nasty fall.

Observing the house from the woods, dad and I waited until the good doctor snuck in the back door. Then we sprang into action. The sheet of plywood went on the ground on the forest side of the fence, just where he would land when he made his jump. That’s where I added my little extra. One of my chores was to police the back yard with a pooper scooper. In other words I had to pick up Fu fu’s shit. Sometimes I saw the little bastard watching me out the window, and I swear to God, he had a shit eating grin on his face. Anyway, for the past week or so I had been saving his crap in a plastic bag, the contents of which now got spread over the nail plates. Yep, I think I am a vengeful son of a bitch.