Oh, this moment is one of my best memories.

Remember that jerk in middle school? Yeah, you know who I’m talking about. The one who slacks off in class and makes fun of you for getting a B+ when his best grade is a C-. He’s also the one who insults others and responds to witty comebacks with, “I know you are but what am I?”, even when the circumstances don't make sense. Oh, I’ve got it! The one who thinks it’s cool to sag his pants to his knees.

I think you all know who I’m talking about.

I was lucky enough to have this kid in my Spanish class. Everyday, he’d walk—no, swagger in a minute after the late bell rang. This particular day, I was in a horrid mood. I had forgotten about a math test, forgot my binder at home, and on top of that, had to lug around a giant jar of vanilla pudding with me all day.

When I say giant, I mean giant. It was huge, like the ones you find at Costco. It was for a club meeting that was after school, so I was stuck with that monstrosity for 7 hours.

When I walked into class, the token jerk went, “Check it out! That jar is almost as big as her stomach!” and laughed. I replied sweetly, “Oh sorry (insert jerk here), but you have to have a double digit IQ before you can talk to me.”

His eyes narrowed and I knew what was coming. His signature comeback was about to slip out. But then he surprised me by retorting with, “Sorry, I don’t talk to girls with mustaches.”

Instead of engaging the idiot, I sat down and pretended to pay attention, all while devising a plan for revenge. Throughout the class, I unscrewed the cap of the pudding jar, little by little.

Then, as we were leaving, I “tripped” and spilled the entire jar of pudding right at him.

It got everywhere. His clothes, his hair, even his backpack. The teacher couldn't accuse me of anything because it was an “accident”. (Secretly, I like to think that she hated him too.)

And the club director started yelling at me for dropping the jar, all I could think of was his clothes and bag, covered in pudding. It was awesome.