Why was it not enough?
— The One Who Won
My morning with Doug fell short of my expectations.
By a lot.
My plan was to scare the holy hell out of him, then call the cops and tell 'em Doug tried to rape me. I did the Good & Plenty bit for them. In Wanatah, I had a reputation for being a smartass. In Gary, I had to start from scratch to earn it, not that I cared about that sort of thing.
I figured I'd wait for Doug to tell the cops I poisoned him. Then I'd hand them the box of Good N' Plenty while I popped one in my mouth. God, it would have been hilarious. Would have made me a legend in this town. People would have told that story for years, and the story would get better every time as they'd add their own flair.
That's what people do to make themselves the star in somebody else's tale. They add flair, and fact becomes fiction as myth becomes legend.
God, it should have been amazing.
And it would have been amazing, but Doug started to cry.
I told him, "Lose the tears. You're too old for that shit, bro. You know what you did. This is the part where I get even. Then you fuck off, knowing the story of your humiliation will be told again and again and again."
But Doug was bawling.
"Stop crying! My God. Do you have any idea how much of a downer you are? You're ruining my moment, Doug!!!"
This wasn't fun anymore.
"Look, I didn't poison you, asshole. Those 'pills' are candy," I said, popping one in my mouth. "GNP? They're Good & Plenty. They're licorice. Want one? I'm bettin' you don't."
He turned the crying up a notch. God damn. This was no fun at all.
"Dammit, Doug. You are ruining this for me!!!"
On TV, when the girl gets even, they make it seem powerful. She always looks so strong and wise as she shows a man the error of his ways, and he's remorseful. It's always like that on TV and in the movies. But on TV, they're never stuck with a blubbering Doug. There's no power in kicking a man when he's already been brought down.
"You're supposed to be remorseful, Doug! Not a blubbering idiot!"
"I'm... sorry."
"Don't you dare say you're sorry! You don't mean it. And stop crying!!! I'm not gonna shoot you. I made sure it's not loaded," I lied. "Those bullets were already on the floor. They probably don't even fit your gun. I hate guns. And I hate you. I'm supposed to win. Don't you get it??? That's what this moment is about, Doug. This is where I win and you lose. That's what we're supposed to be doing here, but you're ruining it. FUCK."
I've never been good with tears, especially if I cause them. And this wasn't my fault.
"Fuck this. I was gonna use your phone to call the cops, and turn you in for the roofies, but you're not even worth it. I'm gonna untie you, and when I do, I want you to run. I want you to run like your life depends on it. Your truck is outside. RUN."
But he didn't.
"RUN!!!"
But he wouldn't.
"Get the hell out of here Doug!!! RUUUUUNNNNNNUN!!!!!"
But he couldn't.
Instead, he slowly slunked his way across the room, one defeated footstep after another. And the more he cried, the slower he walked.
"I!!! SAID!!! RUN!!!!!!!!!!"
Then he sat down, on the dirt and crushed glass, on the concrete floor. And he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm not a bad person. I'm really not. I just, I don't know, I just... I'm sorry."
He buried his head in his hands and he started to wail.
I ran over and dragged him by the collar, pulling him to his feet, from behind, and I pushed him out the door, shoving him every step of the way to his truck.
"GET IN!!! GET IN!!! GET OUT OF HERE DOUG!!!! GO!!!!!!!"
He drove away almost as slowly as he'd walked.
I'd never seen a vehicle look defeated before.
I won.
So, why was it not enough?