I'm holding the bad boy's boxers

That guys as decent as a PMSing Paris Hilton

I am sooooo sorry about the wait, I've been so busy, I literally have one day a week I can write, and last week I had a friend emergency on that day. But OMG! 400 reads wooooooh I actually love you guys.

~•~

I avoided Chad for the remainder of that week and the one that succeeded it, and then the one that succeeded that. In a nutshell, I had a massive metaphorical "Fuck off Chad" sign plastered on my forehead, and Chad heeded my warning a stayed well clear.

I was like batman, hiding in the shadows, biding my time. To be honest, I think I probably am batman, but let's keep that between you and me.

In school I put my ninja skills into practice, ducking and diving my way around the establishment. If I saw him I would turn the other way, never acknowledging his presence. I wanted to lull him into a soft sense of security, only to turn around and stab him in the back. *cue evil, manic laughter.*

They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and I agree (although I think they mainly say that because it sounds badass.) Then again they also say revenge is sweet, making one come to the conclusion that revenge is, in fact, ice cream (which is less badass.)

But ice cream and Batman are completely off-topic, the point was that without badass school musical buggering up my life at every turn, I found I actually had a lot of free time, since avoiding Chad, meant avoiding everyone. You see the guy had the annoying talent of deceiving everyone else, to the point where they actually thought him a decent guy (that guys as decent as a PMSing Paris Hilton) and consequently invited him everywhere, I blame his endearing smile.

He was even there when I went to pick Meg up from her sucky yoga session for skinny nincompoops (maturity right there), okay so he wasn't actually doing any yoga (that I would pay to see), simply standing outside the session, wolf-whistling at all the girls who walked past. But even his presence was enough to annoy me, and of course, his chauvinistic sexualisation of women really wasn't helping his case.

As a result, I spent the next two weeks mostly alone, allowing time for an evil mastermind plan to form in my brain. The idea hit me when I was at eating dinner with my two brothers Cole and Travis, my Dad works late so is never back to eat, and my Mum, well my Mum isn't around anymore. Cole is 18 and Travis 17, and I swear they are some of the biggest players I've ever met. I guess I could blame them and say that they're the reason I've never been in a functional relationship, that through them I've seen what cheating dicks the male species are. But they're not, no the male species showed me that on its own.

But now we're getting away from the point, where was I? Oh yeah. Like I was saying my brothers are the towns biggest players, so if I want to find a way to bring down badass school musical I only have to look to them.

You see the one thing I've always wondered, is how guys actually manage to string so many girls along. I mean this isn't John Tucker Must Die, girls are actually observant enough to pick up when a guy is cheating on them. I think in the end, it comes down to a guy's phone, that little object organises the times that everyone should meet, and allows a guy to have a hundred different conversations at once, and thus basically averts disaster. So, I thought, if I get my hands on Chad's phone, and I can ruin every single one of his cheaty relationships, and what's a player without any game? Nothing.

As I said, this idea hit me at dinner, as both Travis and Cole had their phones out at the table, messaging a slew of poor girls, all of whom were unaware that they were being played for fools. I sat smiling at my own awesomeness for the rest of the meal, convincing both my brothers I was going nutty. But I couldn't help it, after waiting two weeks, revenge was in sight, all I needed to do now was actually get the phone, which was easier said than done.

It was finally time to call on my awesome ninja skills...

~•~

I crawled in through Chad's bedroom window that night, the silly dick had left it open. I'm dressed head to toe in black, a kick-ass ninja belt around my waist, well really it's my Dad's builders utility belt, back from the time when he thought DIY was his "thing", it's not.

I can only imagine what someone would think if they saw me now, well they'd think "call the cops there's someone breaking into that house", obviously. But then, whilst waiting for the cops to come, they'd look at me and think, that girl watches too much Mission Impossible, which is true of course; but irrelevant. 

So anyway, I'm stumbling about the room looking for anything that resembles a phone, and after a few minutes, I find it. It's lying on top of a small article of clothing. I pocket the phone and turn to leave, but curiosity gets the better of me and I find myself picking up the clothing, wondering what it is. Suddenly it clicks.

OMG! Ew. Please don't let this be what I think this is.

I bring the torch forward so I can see clearly. Omg, it is.

I'm holding the bad boy's boxers, ew ew ew! Wait... Is that Mickey Mouse?

Does the bad boy have Mickey Mouse boxers?! Oh, this is gold.

I bring out my phone and take a few pictures.

So I now have a phone capable of destroying his infamous girl streak, and a pair of boxers capable of destroying his street cred (or whatever guys call their pride these days)

That boy will rue the day he ever brought up my underwear choice.

This is gold, blackmail gold, and I intend to use it.