Perverse pranks

There's really no end to the possibilities of malice. I'm amazed at how ingenious, or perverted, depending on how you look at it, people can get when trying to get back at other people.

Did you hear the story of how this group of friends dialed a hundred pizza delivery orders, all directed towards the common object of their enmity? So in a single night, the poor guy opens his door to a hundred pizza pie deliveries, and gets to mumble the same excuse a hundred times. (Wasn't me!) After that night, even though it wasn't his fault, no delivery business would accept orders intended for his address. (Of course, that can only happen in the States. Here, pizza companies are more suspicious, and they run tight identity checks before they accept an order.)

Think that was mean? Wait until you hear this sick story. Apparently believing that this poor girl deserved to be crucified, a prankster posted a notice in a popular mall in Manila. It was something like free Labrador puppies being given away to the first few callers. The notice included the mobile phone number of the poor girl, who lived 300 miles away. So, as soon as the notice was posted, the girl gets barraged by text messages and phone calls from gullible passers-by, inquiring about the free Labs. The girl had to call a friend in Manila to go to the mall, look for the notice, and tear it down.

Makes me remember one jerk from Manila who diverted calls to his phone and into my own. So, what he would do was chat on the Internet, and then arrange to meet up with the strangers he'd pick out from the Net. He'd give them his number, get into their confidence, maybe share a few phone conversations. On the appointed night when they would make their rendezvous, usually after midnight, he'd suddenly be a no-show. Of course, the poor chatter would start calling his number wondering where he was. That's the time the jerk would turn on his divert function, and I start getting calls from the frantic, pissed, or soon-to-be vindictive chatter.

Three AM, the phone rings, and I wake up. There's somebody on the other line asking me where I am and how come I'm in my bed (in Cebu!) sleeping when I'm supposed to be meeting a chatter in the capital. "Huh? What do you mean? I made no such plans to meet you! I'm not who you're looking for!"

Nothing I say in my sexy bedroom voice can dissuade the chatter that I'm not the man of the moment. A couple of insistent chatters like that, and my phone is automatically turned off before I hit the sack.

I don't think I could ever be as twisted as that. Sure, I spend sleepless nights thinking about how to avenge wrongs done to me, but I guess I have lots of forgiving bones in my body. After awhile, revenge is no longer interesting, and I either chalk it up to experience, or I block the whole distasteful experience out. I get mad, I think about getting even, but after working off steam, I'm ok. Nothing like Ivana Trump, who purportedly once said, "Don't get mad, get everything."

Not that I couldn't think up of something malicious if I wanted to. My favorite fantasy involves something similar. What I'd do would be to log in onto a gay chat site, click on as many people as I can and then describe myself as a 25-year-old hunk, part-time model, six-footer, and a basketball player. (Come to think of it, I'd only be half-lying.) Then I would give out the mobile number of whoever's the object of my ire, and let fate take its course.

But of course, I don't do it. Working in my profession already exposes me to a really broad range of evil, spite, malice, not to mention idiocy. No need to add to an already 'rich' life by causing more grief. And now that I've revealed my favorite fantasy revenge, I can't do it anymore. My enemies already know that that's exactly what I'd do, and they'd immediately know it was me.

I have to dream of some other fantasy revenge.