Irresponsible People With Markers
We all know that guy. That one guy. A person with little self-control wielding an unmistakable implement of torture that no other man should be subject to. Yes, friends, I am here to tell you of an unspeakable evil that should not go unpunished. I am referring of course to those jerks at parties that like to draw tiny mustaches on your face with a marker as you sleep.
Imagine, if you would, that you are at a charity event, playing games for the poor children on the planet. You stay up until eight in the morning all by yourself, playing a video game you’ve played for hours on end, all for the most selfless of deeds, charity. When you are finally out of energy, and can’t retain consciousness any longer, you go and wake someone up to take your spot. You pass out on the couch, exhausted, and how are you repaid for you good deeds? With a big black mark on your lip.
Yes, yes. Some jerk attempted to draw a fake mustache on my face. Lucky for me, I am a light sleeper and woke up almost immediately. Though I’m usually not too quick with the brain functions immediately after waking, I lock eyes with the vagrant for a split second as soon as my eyes flash open. Sheer, unadulterated, rotting guilt lied in those eyes, reflecting the darkness of his soul. Yet guilt is sometimes simply not enough to curb one’s evil instincts, so perhaps punishment would be in order.
First off I would need a setting. I would have to wait until night, as my plans for this bout of revenge would require the utmost secrecy only the dark could provide. Pulling up my Supreme Overlord Dictator of Earth app on my super special awesome cell phone, I would dial up a few of my secret ninja agents, six of whom would immediately step out from a nearby bush as I strolled innocently over to the offender’s house on a night I knew he would be alone. My ninjas, well-trained in the art of breaking and entering, would bust down his door and we would stroll into his living room, where he would be passed out on the couch, dreaming away.
Dreaming, peacefully, at least, until my ninjas bind him in place with ropes, and proceed to tattoo a fake mustache onto his face. Yes, you heard me right. Ink it right on his upper lip. I’d even order them to make one side ridiculously longer than the other so that no matter what, he wouldn’t be able to pull it off fashionably. Upon finishing, as usual, we would simply walk off, no other harm done. Or, well, I’d walk. The ninjas would probably back flip into the shadows or something.
Now, you may be asking, how can I honestly call myself a good friend after doing this? Heck, since this is all theoretical/only in the planning stages, how can I call myself a good friend by even thinking this? But, to that, I ask another question. Was what we did to each other essentially not the same thing? The taking advantage of an off-guard individual motivated by comedy. My way is just a little bit more… permanent.