Evil Becky has breast cancer

I was lounging on the floor a couple of days ago, just me and my lawyer, enjoying the last rays of sun on an especially cold day and the phone rang. I answered without looking, which is always a mistake, but one I seem to make each and every time. It was one of my arch enemies, Sultana Carbonerra. Had I viewed the caller ID I would not have answered.

We have what most people would call a checkered past. Sultana and I met a few years ago at an NA meeting. She was addicted to coke and meth and I was addicted to NA meetings, it was a match. We would get high on caffeine and go out for sushi after hearing the sob stories. Sultana was, at first, a woman of deep mystery. Then she stole my wallet, helped her thieving boyfriend Boris steal my identity and for about 6 months they portrayed me on the internet on a variety of websites, from Amazon.com to a couple of pay for gay websites, where apparently some provocative pictures of someone pretending to be a younger version of me exist to this day.

Boris was busted and served 16 hours in lock up, I think he learned his lesson. Sultana and I became lovers, then she punched me in the face, got arrested, served 45 days in the clink, and that was the last I saw of her. Until I saw her again 4 months later at an NA meeting in Salt Lake City.

Sultana; Hey, long time.

Me; It's been nice, not hearing your voice.

Sultana; I miss you too buttercup.

Me; And how is Boris?

Sultana: He dead.

Me; He dead?

Sultana; He dead.

Me; My heart aches.

Sultana; You sarcastic.

Me: That true.

Sultana; He get crushed by fallen timber at Mel Gibson house in Chicago.

Me; I heard about that.

Sultana; You did?

Me; Well, I heard that someone had been killed by falling timber at Mel Gibsons house in Chicago, I did not know it was Boris. Now, that is kind of sad.

Sultana; I no longer love him.

Me; So you moved on? That's good.

Sultana; It had been years since I last laid eyes on Boris.

Me; I can honestly say the same.

Sultana; Yes, I imagine that is true.

Me; And you called because you wanted to tell me about the shoddy craftsman work at Mel Gibsons Chicago home?

Sultana; Evil Becky has breast cancer.

Stop right there.

See, now we got all sorts of explaining to do. Evil Becky hates me like no other woman hates me, and right off the top of my head, I can think of at least five women who hate me so much that if you gave them a gun and a license to kill, they would just need my address, but none of them hate me like Evil Becky. Her hatred is deep and it is pure.

I was in 8th grade and I was a verbal bully. I did not know better, in that way, I was kind of innocent. Evil Betty was an awkward girl, a bit too big in every way, taller than most of the boys and broader too. I think I called her Lurch. "Hey Lurch, could you kill me some varmints and make me me some vittals?" It would humiliate her, but she was strong and she would turn and smile and say sure and she would walk away. One day for our PE class we were playing touch football on a warm afternoon and out of the blue Evil Betty found her fist connecting to my face, I believe she told everyone she was trying to knock the ball from my hand, and I believe we all believed her. She tried to knock the ball from my hand about 5 times, all by punching my face.

A few years later in my high school senior year book, completely out of the blue, Evil Becky signed, "I wished I would have killed you when I was beating your face to a pulp in 8th grade. If I ever get the chance to do it again, I won't stop."

Me; So, Evil Becky has breast cancer.

Sultana; Yes.

Me; I suppose it would be a good idea to visit.

Sultana; When was the last time you saw her?

Me; I think when I asked her to sign my yearbook.