Best served cold [Open]

[Dominic Bryson West]

A can of forest green spray paint shook in his hand, the metal ball inside clinking against the sides and filling the silence with, what to him, sounded like the sweetest of silver bells. It wasn’t because Dom was particularly poetic making beauty out of even the simplest things in life but rather because the sound of revenge was music to his ears. The faculty parking lot was empty at this time of evening, save for one white SUV that had been having unexplained engine trouble as the rest of the staff headed home or to do whatever it is that they did. A gloved hand had slipped out first thing in the morning to take three of the six spark plugs off of the distributor cap and then watched on from a distance as the woman attempted several times to turn the ignition over only to get that harsh revving before dying out, the car unable to start.

So what had possessed Dominic to go through all the trouble of sending his message? Well when a whore of a teacher was using innuendos on you for half the school year trying to seduce you and instead of him playing into her midlife crisis and indulging in her flirtations he had made a crude comment earning him a week’s worth of detention- it was only fair that she get some punishment out of the deal too. That tow truck that she had called wouldn’t be coming to collect her car so first thing in the morning all the students would be able to see Dominic’s handiwork. His fingertips were stained with a few different colors, primarily black but he would wash away the evidence once he was finished.

The pin-up caricature with Ms. Jenkins’ features- unmistakable- and the word whore scrawled underneath in bold impact lettering. Taking a step back he looked at his graffiti. It was more artistically appealing than the woman deserved but Dom was going to dumb down his work because she was a useless, pathetic human being. Admiring his work, positive that she would understand just who it had been done by and her humiliation would be awesome considering the vulgar position the caricature was in. tossing the near empty can into a black duffle bag at his feet Dom cracked his knuckle then lulled his head cracking his next too. He was crouched down zipping up the duffle bag when he heard someone approaching. Maybe he should have been anxious about who it was but he didn’t even flinch as they spoke to him making it clear that they saw him.