Nelson Galaxy

It was with intense trepidation that I walked up to the gates outside work for my confrontation with the sex pest. I was stood in the spitting rain, with only a couple of smokers for company. I decided to give the pest five minutes and then I would return to my desk, settled in the belief that it was all just a joke.

He arrived not long after, swaggering like a pretend cowboy. His insect face was twisted in a scowl of anger – mixed with cynical lust. Stopping inches from me, he made a disgusting gurgling noise and spat on the floor. I noticed that his hands were flexing into fists at the side of his body. I was not scared, just very tired.

“I told you I was going to sort you out Nelson.”
“Look Pesty, I don’t care what you think of me but this is all just pathetic.”
“You are pathetic Nelson. Pa-fet-ic.”
“Let’s just get this out of the way shall we?”
“There’s something I need to tell you Nel.”

A peculiar gleam flickered across his loathsome face. His claw like hand shot out from his side and I flinched, expecting the inevitable. He placed his hand onto my shoulder and stared me directly in the face; his eyes were bloodshot and crusty. I was pinned to the wall.

“I’ve seen you Nelson, on MySpace, seen what you look like dressed as a woman.”
“Oh aye.”
“It does something to me. I really like it and I would like you to dress like that for me. I know I could show you a real good time.”

His arm crept across my shoulders and he attempted to pull me to him in a sickly embrace. I could smell his ripe body odour mixed with cheap aftershave. His other hand was on my thigh, rubbing harshly. “I know you want it baby,” he whispered.

Without warning I jerked my knee up to powerfully meet his crotch. He doubled up in pain, gagging for breath. Fighting back the tears he wailed, “Why Nelson, why?”

“Because you are a fool and a slimy sex pest,” I shouted. As I returned to the office I realised I was desperate to wash my hands.

Revenge is a dish best served with hot custard.