Savage revenge?

Once upon a time, a much younger version of me lived with her first ever boyfriend. You know, the kind of bonehead boyfriend that you are with a couple years past high school, the kind that cheats, cannot hold a job, lies, and fights with people when he can’t solve problems.

Well, we were very tight on money. It was so bad that his mother had to give us food sometimes or we wouldn’t have any. I was the only one of us with a job for a long time, and I could barely keep the electric on at our apartment. Spending extra money was out of the question.

My boyfriend, the bonehead, decided he wanted to start smoking. I’m not sure why. I was very much against this. Some time passed, and he told me he would quit or stop smoking. It’s not like I could not smell the Camels on him, but he kept lying about it. Right around the same time, I found out that he was also lying about not hooking up with his female coworker. I got fed up and lost my cool.

By this time, he finally found a job, and he would carpool to work from a certain spot every day. I went to go find the cigarettes. I knew he was keeping them in the car. So I took the spare key to his 1965 Mustang, and found several packs of Camels in the console. To make my point ultra clear with him, I took a pair of scissors and cut up the cigarettes, all of them, and tossed them like confetti all over the car interior. I may or may not have left a Post-it note with a smiley face on the steering wheel.

Then, I went back home to our apartment to wait for the torrent of fury to be unleashed on me. When he got home, we had a big argument and broke up.