Song Prompts One-Shots

Revenge: Best Served with a Baseball Bat

Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood

Revenge: Best Served with a Baseball Bat

My hands had a death grip on the steering wheel of my monarch orange VW Beetle and the knuckles were beginning to turn white. I have been clenching my teeth for so long that my jaw was tingling, but I didn't release the tension I had throughout my whole body.

My eyes were narrowed in irritation and anger as I shot hateful looks at the road before me. I was ready to kill at this moment and I just wanted to get where I wanted so I could unleash all my fury.

Four hours ago I'm screwing around on my laptop with various social network sites opened in my tabs trying to cure my intense boredom. My boyfriend wasn't texting me for the night because he had to work.

I end up scrolling through my news-feed, for the fifth time in the past recent hour, and a new thing comes up saying that my boyfriend was tagged in a picture. I was curious so of course I click it and low and behold I'm faced with a picture of some random, badly dyed,  red headed, scantily clad woman who could easily be mistaken for a hooker who had her body draped all over my boyfriend with an excessive amount of cleavage spilling out of her dark red tube top.

For the next hour I was snooping and screaming obnoxious obscenities and trying to dig my way through my boyfriend's and I's mutual friends in hopes someone would know who the girl was and where the hell she had taken my boyfriend.

Thank the heavens that one of my best friends had her claws in deep with the correct people and she was able to tell me that every Thursday the skank and my boyfriend head over to a not-so-local club to grind all over each other before they go suck faces in his stupid black SUV.

So, I was on my way there with an aluminum baseball bat and vengeance on my mind. You never crossed a Davenport. And you especially didn't cross me. I come from a powerful family of women who took crap from no man, I was not letting my scum bag boyfriend get away with thinking he can play me like a fiddle. Not on his life.

It didn't take too long to get to the club, Inhibitions (go figure). I would mostly chalk that up to me going fifty in a thirty five the whole way to my destination.

It wasn't hard to find my boyfriend's vehicle. He was a douche bag, why I ignored it the whole time we were dating is beyond me and I would love to slap myself in the face. The cheater always liked to take up two parking spots because "he didn't want someone to hurt his baby girl." Well, if the bastard didn't want something bad happen to his care, he shouldn't have screwed me over.

I parked sideways and in front of his car before reaching into the backseat and grabbing my bat. I got out of my Beetle and stood next to his driver side door.

With one full swing, the bat crashed into the side of the car with a pleasing sound. I grinned as I hit it again.

"You're probably treating her like you did me, you dick!" I snapped as I smacked his car again.

I remember when he first taught me how to shoot pool. I was horrible at it, but he got behind me and showed me how to hit the cue ball, he even tried to teach me a few trick shots.

The memory made me ill and I slammed the bat into driver's side window.

"Have fun cleaning this up." I said aloud. I leaned the bat against the SUV before sliding my arm through the broken window and unlocking the car.

I grabbed my car keys and using the key he gave me for his house, I carved curse words, dirty names, and then my own so he understood that it was Harper Davenport who wanted him to pay for what he did.

I dug down deep into his perfect, well-kept leather seats. Pale insulation was beginning to peek out from the slits, but I really didn't give a rat's ass.

I even climbed into the back of his car to continue my assault on his precious little baby. He cared more about his car than he did me. He was picking me up from work one day and it was raining and I was soaked. He forced me into the very back, the truck space of his damn car because he "didn't want me to ruin his upholstery." Again, what did I even see in this guy?

Once I was satisfied with how the inside of his car looked, I climbed back out and shut the door. With the same key in hand, I put it against the paint and walked around the car, taking great care in making fancy designs and scribbles and made them as big and messy as possible.

Content with the masterpiece I carved into his paintjob, I grabbed the baseball bat again and moved to the front of his baby, squeezing into the space between the side of my car and the front of his.

With a smile on my face, the baseball bat made contact with both headlights. Colored glass shattered to the ground in chunky pieces and I exhaled, feeling slightly relieved.

I moved back to the side of my car and stared at my handy work. Something was missing, but I wasn't sure what.

Then it dawned on me. Why not kick him when he's down?

I got back into my car, tossed my bat into the backseat and then dug around my glove compartment pulling out a decently sized, yet very powerful switch blade.

I promptly then went to each and every one of his tires and slashed all of them.They were nearly shreds by the time I was done.

I put the knife back in my car and then unhooked his key from my key ring and put it on the driver's seat. I was proud of my handy work. I had let off steam and he most definitely learned his lesson.

I quickly got back into my car and drove off.

All that I did was obvious and incriminating, I put my signature all over his damn car, but remember when I said I come from a powerful family? My mom is on the city council, my aunt is a cop, and one of my sisters is a lawyer. There was no way that I was going to get in trouble with this.

After seeing what happened, I might have saved time for a future girlfriend he might have because, hopefully, next time he'll think before he cheats.