Revenge Is A Dish Best Served With Chicken
As a calm, disciplined, calculating introvert, I listen much more than I talk. I love to observe people — what they say, how they act, what they are willing to freely reveal about themselves (whether sober or inebriated) to others without any prompting whatsoever. In short, I find people endlessly fascinating.
During my junior year at Brigham Young University, I spent the winter semester in an intensive Arabic language program at BYU’s Center for Near Eastern Studies in Jerusalem, Israel. The program was to last six months and we would live in close proximity to and share meals with the non-language study abroad students, many of whom were freshmen and several of whom were loud, unruly, and generally obnoxious. Because our curricula were entirely different, our paths rarely crossed except in the gym and in the cafeteria. But this one time our paths crossed in a most unexpected way that significantly sabotaged my bathroom hygiene, motivating me to plan and surgically execute a truly creative and unexpected act of revenge.
It all started when our toilet paper went missing. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be cause for concern or hostility; however, in our living accommodations, toilet paper was frugally rationed once a week. We were expected to make it last, and if it ran out, we were shit out of luck. That made us very protective of our toilet paper rolls. Once collected, the rolls were returned to our room where they were to last the four of us roommates an entire week. Unbeknownst to us, however, one of our roommates had been careless with his room key during lunch, and it had fallen into the wrong hands; more specifically, the hands of four freshmen living in a room one floor above us. They thought we were stiffs for always keeping to ourselves and not fraternizing with the larger group. And they were probably right, but when they pilfered our toilet paper shortly after receiving our weekly ration, they went too far. Retribution would be fierce, and a very clear message would need to be delivered that our toilet paper supply was not to be disturbed.
And so our minds went to work, scheming and planning the ultimate act of revenge that would deter them from ever crossing us again. The very next day, I was practicing my Arabic with a Palestinian neighbor when I noticed a few chickens running around his village. I inquired who they belonged to, and he proudly claimed them as his. Inexplicably, my mind envisioned an act of revenge perpetrated with the use of livestock, and I asked if I could borrow one of his chickens for a few days. I explained that I wanted to perhaps use his chicken to get even with the toilet paper thieves. He understood the importance of my quest and graciously handed one of his plump chickens to me.
I didn’t give it a name — though I should have — for this newfound foul friend moved into our dorm room for the next few days — living in our bathtub while subsisting on lunch leftovers. We took it out when we needed to bathe, but learned quickly that chickens aren’t very clean guests, forcing us to bleach our bathtub each day to remove the stench of chicken shit. Once our neighbors curiously peered into our open window after hearing some spirited clucking. We explained that we were watching the neighbor’s chicken for the day which, surprisingly, gave them no cause for further inquiry. Part of this was true except that one day eventually turned into many days as we bided our time until the perfect opportunity to strike.
Meanwhile, the thieves upstairs had discovered that that one of their keys had been out of their possession for several hours after I stole it and took it to Jerusalem to get a copy made. Being young and supremely overconfident on the surface, they exuded a sense of foreboding that filled us with glee. Dutifully, they kept vigil each night in hopes of foiling any revenge attack. We waited patiently, night after night, until they commitment began to wane. Unfortunately, we noticed that our chicken was beginning to feel quite at home in our room, which began to take on the odious scent of a barn, something my other roommates began to resent.
Finally, the time had arrived. The thieves had become complacent and lazy, retiring to bed at normal time for the next few nights. The time for vengeance was near, and it was going to be an event that neither we nor the chicken would ever forget.
On the night of attack, we readied our supplies and patiently waited. Besides the chicken, we secured some rope and two lawn chairs. After all, we wanted to savor the moment by watching the drama unfold from the comfortable confines of the thieves’ balcony. At around 2:00 am, my roommate Kevin and I quietly walked upstairs to confirm that the thieves were sleeping. To our delight, there was not a sound or stir emanating from their bedroom. Furthermore, the construction of these dorms was such that the there was a single front door which opened inward and a sliding glass door out onto a balcony overlooking Jerusalem. We brought along two pieces of rope to seal the premises. Once the package had been delivered, the first piece would be used to secure the front door shut by tying the doorknob to a nearby tree in the courtyard while the second piece would be used to tie the glass sliding door to a rail on the balcony. Finally, for observational purposes, we placed our lawn chairs on the balcony after noticing that the thieves had not drawn the curtains before retiring for the night. And what package did we deliver?
Kevin, the chicken, and I opened the door and quietly entered. The glass sliding door was already tied off, and we would shortly make our escape through the front door before continuing to our lawn chair lookout point. Slowly, I approached Mick — the mastermind of the toilet paper heist. Watching him slumber so peacefully almost made me feel guilty for what I was about to unleash upon him. Almost, but not quite. Suddenly, with the chicken in my arms, I held it in front of me and gave it three strong shakes before dropping it on Mick’s face. As Kevin and I quickly exited the front door, we could hear loud sounds of flapping and squawking consistent with a chicken in distress. Mick was slower to awaken than we had predicted. The chicken had a twenty second head start on his face before he knew what hit him — or at least what had landed on him.
As we made our way back to the balcony and sat on our lawn chairs, the light in the room came on. The mayhem we witnessed was truly epic and unforgettable. By this time, Mick had finally gotten the chicken off his face, though it was still squawking and flapping around the room as the other three thieving roommates awoke from their slumbers. Finally, the chicken calmed down enough to land in the center of the dorm room. As if sensing what was about to happen, one of the thieves grabbed the chicken in hopes of removing it from the room as quickly as possible. First he tried the front door. No luck. He pulled and pulled. No luck. Next he tried the sliding door. No luck, though at that moment he did notice Kevin and I sitting in our lawn chairs on their balcony laughing hysterically at the fracas. He motioned to the other thieves as to our presence, and at that moment, they knew that they would never again abscond with our toilet paper. But their punishment was not yet complete until they eventually placed the chicken on their floor, only to watch it take a giant steaming shit on the carpet. Still, we weren’t ready to release the door and wanted them to suffer the humiliation of a grungy, angry bird flying aimlessly around the room, clawing at them mercilessly, and mindlessly relieving itself on the floor. At that moment, I experienced a level of schadenfreude that I had not thought possible. These assholes were paying a price for their tomfoolery. And we had a front row seat.
Eventually, the chicken was returned to our generous neighbor donor. Things mostly went back to normal with us continuing our Arabic studies and the thieves enjoying their various courses. They didn’t dare share what had happened with their fellow classmates, which is why we took it upon ourselves to describe our savage tale of revenge and the cleanup duty that awaited them.
And for the rest of the semester, our dorm room was never again a target, and our toilet paper supply and hygiene were both restored, never to be threatened again.
