Snowballed Revenge

Prompt Day #114 Have a character commit the act of revenge by creatively utilizing the carcass of a dead animal.

Snowballed Revenge

                Let me start by saying that Patterson deserves everything I’ve done. Everyone on this street knows he purposefully poisons pets. He hates it if any creature ventures on his lawn. Oh yeah, I’ve seen cats eating out of dishes on his front porch, and then, the next thing you know, the cats are dead. Mrs. Carlisle’s poodle wondered off one day, came home that night, and the next morning, Mrs. Carlisle woke up to find it dead, bleeding from every orifice. Yeah, we all knew it was him but no one had proof so no charges ever stuck and because he was otherwise, a harmless appearing old man, the police refused to do anything. No one liked him, but I chose to ignore him mostly. I mean, my cat was an indoor cat so Patterson’s evil antics didn’t affect me directly…until Snowball got out.

The day Snowball got out, my parents were having furniture delivered and sometime during the in and out of the warehouse workers, the cat slipped away. He came home about an hour later, I let him in. He seemed no worse for wear but by morning, he was dead, suffering a fate similar to Trudy (Trudy the Poodle Carlisle). I knew it was old man Patterson. And now it was personal.

The vet said Snowball must have gotten into rat poison, which, if ingested will cause hemorrhaging. Rat poison, eh? I went home, waited until I saw the lights go out at Patterson’s and snuck into his garage. Just as I suspected, he had multiple boxes of rat poison on his shelves. So, Patterson just has a bad rodent problem, surely he isn’t using it for anything else. I decided to help him. Poor guy’s been buying all this poison and yet the mice and rats continue to be a big problem. I grabbed a few boxes—he had plenty, he wouldn’t miss them, and snuck back out.

The next day, after school, I set live traps all through the field behind my house but I filled the traps with poison-laced food. Every day, I collected the bodies and put them in a cooler until it was full. Then I took them out of the cooler and let them “ripen”. I continued to collect bodies, mind you, this was war after all.

On Sunday, I waited until Patterson went for his weekly grocery (and probably rat poison stock up) trip. My friend, Michaela and I climbed up on his roof and dumped two garbage bags full of dead rodents, squirrels, chipmunks, and a couple birds in varying degrees of decomposition down his chimney. The next day, I filled his mailbox with more.

On Tuesday, I handed out gallon-sized Ziploc baggies to all my friends who, on their way home from school each took a detour to Patterson’s. There, the dead animals were put through his mail slot on his door, scattered on his lawn, and carefully shoved into the tailpipe of his care until not another single little body would fit.

On Wednesday, Patterson called the police. We all watched as he stood in his door, hands on his hips gesturing wildly about and finally dragging the officers into his house most likely to show them where some anonymous Santa Claus had sent bloody, stinking carcass gifts down his chimney. We all watched until Patterson reappeared with the cops in his driveway where he hunkered down pointing to the exhaust. Santa managed to sneak onto the roof as Patterson busied himself with hypocrisy and dumped another bag of death down his chimney.

This death-for-a-death assault continued until a letter to the editor showed up in the newspaper. It wasn’t signed but basically said that while the writer had made some bad decisions over the years, the current level of revenge that is being taken upon him was beyond “what any human being should have to endure” and he was asking for a truce. After reading it, I put my traps away, threw out the poison, and vowed to never kill another creature for the sake of revenge. I realized that it made me no better than the old man himself.

Today, I watched him shuffle out to his mailbox. I could almost smell the rot again as he opened the door and pulled out the bloated raccoon I picked up off the road on my way home from school today. I laughed when he frantically shook his hands and wiped off the maggots that had fallen from the dead thing.

“That one was for you, Snowball” I whispered.