Taste of Your Own Medicine

The best cure for a broken soul is your own medicine. Wounds heal in time, scars fade and hearts heal.

The best part about that is that this theory also works the other way around!

I haven't met one soul that likes MW. Some can put up with him (and I must note that these are VERY Zen people), some dislike him (these are the very tolerant people), but most positively hate him. Me? I am a Professor in The Art of Hating MW, an area I pursue with passion.

MW is awful - he's the beanbag, jelly-fleshed dancer I was describing in Tralalala...dancing. He makes me cry, he makes most of the girls cry, he pisses all the boys of and even made BSC cry (once. I remember it, so don't deny it, BSC).

Every time we 'dob' on him or tell him off, we always end up getting into trouble.

Only today, hopefully, will be different.

We were only doing what MW does, only to a much smaller degree - but there were three of us (BSC, me and another guy). The other guy, who I will call 'T' because I don't feel like typing 'the other guy' all the time, was having so much fun that he managed to give MW a tiny little cut on his knee, which of course set him blubbing. T, not to be undone, also decided to get a little pen ink in the miniscule cut, which had MW tirading furiously about how infections can get caused by ink in the bloodstream. I sarcastically remarked, to keep MW going 'Don't worry, it'll only infect your brain' to which BSC said 'But seeing as you don't have one, it's moot point'

I don't really know what happened after that, but somehow MW ended up slamming T into the doorframe, to which T responded by throwing MW out the door. MW really started mimicking Niagra Falls then, the sight of his pathetic face all ateary was priceless.

I would say I felt sorry for him, but I don't. He deserves it. We've tried again and again to tell him to stop, but hopefully this taste of his own medicine will set him right.