Got Meth?

I have had the opportunity to ply my creative skills in the art of vengeance on many occasions in my youth; however, as an adult, I felt that there were better ways to handle things. I then reminded myself that there is a season for everything, some people don’t understand anything but a dose of their own medicine. These people lack the civility to respect other people or to act in rational ways. I had learned this on the streets long ago but hoped that I had risen into a new social structure.

I was teaching in a small rural school when the harassment started, from a coworker. She was a support person in the building her child was one of my students. On my first day of school, I would always send home a small pamphlet of expectations for classwork and class behavior; it was to be signed by parents and students, then returned. This procedure would save drama later on in the school year, when a child or parent would claim that, Johnny or Suzie "Didn’t know better" or "Understand." This coworker came to me and told me that their child would not be following several of my rules in the pamphlet after school on the first day. My first question was, “Why?” I was then told the reason their child would not be following the rules, “They don’t like the rules.” Like it or not, my rules stand without a valid reason why they shouldn’t. I explained to the mother, citing several examples where I would be willing to make adjustments, for valid reasons. The mother got mad and said, “You’ll be sorry,” then stormed off. I thought, “What is this junior high?”

The first quarter was moving along, this coworker's child had a “B+” in my class. I am suddenly called to the office for a meeting after school with my principal, with the coworker and her husband about picking on their child. That is their claim of why their child's grade is suffering. Wait, a “B+” is a good grade. I grade with a rubrics allowing students to see what area they lost their points in on assignments. These parents bring in an assignment I downgrade a section on capitalization. This is the same mistake that this child has repeatedly made the same error, has been spoken to about, been warned to make the corrections, and chooses not to fix the capitalization issue. I explain that their child told me, they were not going to correct their capitalization. These parents wanted me to let their child have a pass on capitalization. I told them I couldn’t do that because of state guidelines. The coworker, mom, changed subjects, digressing into a rant about having the children write journal entries every day. The meeting spirals were both parents are calling me names, my principal does nothing about it; I walk out of the meeting. They didn't want to help their child's education. They just wanted to be able to bully an "A" out of me. The coworker pulled her child from my class, hiring a private teacher for her child.

I would think that would be the end of this nightmare parent, nope. She programmed spyware on my computer, leaking all of my confidential student files. This coworker then began a phone campaign in the community to get me fired, telling everyone I leaked confidential student information. She physically shoved me from behind in the hall one day, when my hands were full, then laughed. If that wasn’t enough she called the cops on me while I was at work, telling them I was intoxicated in front of my students. The police came and did a sobriety test in front of my students. This was the final straw of her bullying me. I had already turned in my resignation. Not because of her non-sense, I had health reasons. I decided to have a little fun.

I had figured out months before, she was a meth-head. This was going to be to my advantage in my revenge plot against this wretch. She was also very predictable in her schedule; she did the same routines like clockwork every day. She had an office at the back of the library. My classroom had a backdoor into the library; if the library was locked I could still get in there. The plan for revenge was writing itself.

I have always maintained connections to people, that know people, that know…well, the idea is drawn out; one of the connections was to the one thing she wanted and needed, meth. I didn’t want her cut off; I wanted the price raised, the dealer to act as if there was a shortage for some bogus reason. If the dealer’s profit margin was getting effected, they wouldn’t be game but raising the price solved that problem. The idea was to keep her on edge, never satisfied, ever. Once I had that accomplished, I moved to the next step. I went to the pet shop, bought two dozen feeder crickets; released them into her office. I sprinkled itching powder on all her books and papers; knowing she would move them looking for the little noisemakers.

I picked the thermostat lockbox in her office, then turned it up to 95 degrees. She was always wearing long sleeves to cover her track marks from shooting up. She shed her sleeves in the sweltering heat until someone could adjust her thermostat. Somehow, it kept getting turned back up to 95 degrees. The next thing I did is diabolical, but it tipped the scale for people in the community to realize, she was a meth-head. I put “Buck Lure”, female concentrated deer urine, on pantyliners. Why pantyliners? Pantyliners have an absorbent side and an adhesive side both which served my devious purpose. On the underside of her desk, I placed a liner, inside the file cabinet on the topmost underside, a liner. I placed half a dozen liners in her office. In the final act, I painted the keyboard with a Q-tip with the deer urine.

She had looked all over, couldn’t figure out where the odor was coming from in her office. She had to get her work done in her sweaty oven of an office. This made her fingertips moist, picking-up the deer urine off the keyboard when she typed. The more she looked for the scent and the crickets, the more itching powder she came into contact with on her hands. The hotter she became, the more reactive the powder. The more she scratched her skin, the more she spread the powder.

All of these things, had her walking around the school and town like a frazzled ball of nerves. She began walking around school with her track marks showing, itching, complaining about bugs, and compulsively smelling her fingers.

After two weeks, the whole town knew she was a strung out mess. I just reveal to everyone, who she was under her fake facade.