NO-FI "MAGAZINE"
presents
"Revenge Of The Pixie"
a story by Pamela "Pixie" Lay

A few years ago, I was a self-professed "player." I thought that because I had had so much bad crap happen to me in relationships, I was responsible entirely for the destruction of the male ego.

There was a guy I had met a few times in the clubs, pubs and many social events here in the BBC ("Beautiful British Columbia." Really. It even says that on our license plates) and he was an evil, evil man. He too was a "player." This guy, Doug, was a complete asshole and he thought that he was god¼s gift to women AND men. Not that he was bi-sexual or anything, but he felt that he was the shit. He spent a lot of time cruising the local hangouts, finding young women, and then breaking their heartsä I was not one of those women. Doug had heard of my "reputation" and he stayed far away from me.

One night, about three o'clock in the morning I received a very disturbing phone call from a female friend of mine. Turns out, mister Doug had again broken another girl's heart and then thrown her to the wolves in the way of destroying her reputation. My friend felt that drastic measures had to be taken. She (and some other girls) wanted to hire me to put the boy into his misery as it were. I thought that there was no way in Hell I would be able to accomplish such a feat, as Doug was very aware of my reputation and steered clear of me whenever he could. But then again, I never turn down a challenge. So I accepted her request, free of charge.

I called Doug on the phone the next day and told him that I wanted to meet him for a drink. He was a little skeptical, considering I had a boyfriend at the time, but being a pig with a humongous ego, he agreed. We met the following night for a game of pool at one of the pubs in town. It was a great night for going out, everybody and their dog was present. People were looking at us with shocked looks on their faces, jaws dropped as we walked past. No one said a word to us though.

We sat down at a table, ordered a jug, which I just HAD to pay forämale chivalry would have been lost on this fellow. We had a very in depth conversation about everything from the arts, religion, life, and love. I "confessed" to him that my relationship was not working out as I had hoped, and I wanted to pursue other options. We had a fabulous night. I returned home, (alone) and after a few phone calls to the gals who had "hired" me, I went to sleep.

The next week was spent almost entirely with Doug. We went for coffee together, dinner, the movies. We were inseparable, and his trust in me began to grow. We ended up exchanging stories of our childhoodäand he allowed me to see his childhood photo albums (you know the ones with all of the embarrassing pictures?), and when he was in the bathroom, I snagged a few of them.

About three weeks after our lovely friendship had started; Doug had a huge party at his home. It was a blast. I invited my friends and we all went up thereäI met a lot of people, and they were all confused as to why I was hanging out with him, considering his reputation and mine. They were certain there was an ulterior motive for all of my actions. Not knowing whether or not these people were his friends or not, I held onto my charade of being his friend. Any time I felt a twinge of sympathy for him, I remembered the tearful cry of my friend who had been scorned because of his foul mouth.

I circulated around the party, with little Doug following me around the whole time. (He had confessed to me about a week earlier that he thought that he was falling in love with me.) I gave myself the job of being the D.J. that night for a few hours, like Doug was going to say "no" to me, and I sat myself down at the computer and stereo. One of the girls who came with me was a computer and electronics whiz. She set everything up for me. What was this everything?? Well, every single one of Doug¼s and my conversations had been recorded and edited into a three minute admittance of him saying what an asshole he was to women, along with many of his childhood secrets. I had been taping our conversations. Now, of course my own confessions were also on those tapes, but they had been erased. The embarrassing pictures that I had stolen from Doug were all photocopied and ready to be passed out. We waited until Doug was in the bathroom with one of his "floozies", and we started the tape, which aired all over the partyä The way we had edited it made him sound even worse than we was. On this tape were the confessions of him trying to steal his best friends' girlfriend, cheating on past girlfriends, and then him bragging because he had gotten away with it. My friends passed out the embarrassing pictures of him around the 200+ party-goers in attendance. Because speakers were set up in the bathroom, Doug could hear what was going on, but he was such a coward he never appeared until it was over.

That night, he learned a powerful lesson; revenge can come in many forms, and from many different people. It may not have been my battle to fight, but I sure as hell was not going to let him get away with such things.

Did I teach him anything? Well he was a lot nicer to the next girl he dated, and he did apologize to his best friend and to my friend that he had lied about. As for my friend ship with Doug? I don¼t really know. He and I never spoke again. Was it worth it? I guess I will never know. I will say that my reputation stayed much the same. I was still a "man-eater", the "devil herself", and even my boyfriend knew not to mess with me. I got a lot of respect from the people that he had hurt, although I am sure that many people were a little disgusted with what I had done. I have no regrets though. But, if I were to ever see him again, I know we would get along fine. Why? Once a player, always a player. I KNOW I could play my way into his heart again. Oh, he might be a little weary of me, but I know sooner or later, no one can refuse my charm.

Pamela Lay is a contributing writer to No-Fi "Magazine" and lives in Canada where the men better watch out lest she tears out their hearts with her talons.


E-Mail No-Fi "Magazine" at the link below.