“And now I shall have my revenge,” Yosi said as he moved into the shadows. Evil laughter followed before he ran into the night and waited for his trap to be sprung.
The next morning he watched the news for an update on his diabolical revenge plot.
“Seven guests at the Regal Hotel off Highway 98 were taken to the hospital last night with what doctors are calling ‘angry goose syndrome.” The anchor said before pitching to a reporter live at the scene.
“Wow, that’s really good timing on my part that they’re talking about the thing right as I turn it on,” Yosi said, wondering if he was somehow controlling all of time and space.
“Angry Goose Syndrome is said to be incredibly rare, but unmistakable,” the field reporter said, “patients first crave bread and when they don’t get any, they go to great efforts to damage person or property with, well, with what one fears when geese fly overhead.”
“That’s very odd,” the lead anchor replied. Yosi was mildly bothered by the editorializing and wished for journalism to take control in the info-tainment world, but let it slide as they were discussing his revenge plot.
The field reporter continued, “the patients will recover in a day or two. The whole thing is more a funny nuisance than a life threatening moment. The real question is how seven people contracted the same rare problem in one night.”
“Sun spoiled deviled eggs in the buffet line!” Yosi shouted at the television. He laughed a sinister laugh. “I…oh golly I spent so much time on that and have literally no idea what I was seeking for revenge for now. Was it bad eggs at breakfast? Only having Coke products? I thought this moment would feel more complete, more special, more anything really. Honestly I think I just feel bad for ruining deviled eggs. Those things are my jam. Not literally, as jam is jam in that case. Why am I talking to myself so much? Have I become the soliloquy bad guy of Shakespeare’s dreams? I’m nothing more than a caricature of evil doing and I don’t do evil well.”
Yosi was feeling the post project crash.