This was a short story written for Decameron 2.0.  I was given the theme Revenge, and I have to admit that I was a little nervous.  There is more than a little part of me that would like to think the world is made up of rainbows and lollypops.  In the end, I must have tapped into a different part of me, because I really had a lot of fun writing it (insert evil grin here).

The Pitch

Take this job and shove it takes on a whole new meaning when Miranda decides to quit.

Wreaked

"I quit! I quit! I quit." Miranda shouted in a window rattling crescendo. She couldn't wait to say those words for real to her boss instead to the car radio that insisted on cutting in and out. She pulled into her regular parking spot at the back of the grimy, grease spot of a garage where she had worked for two years as a receptionist. She got out of her car, and the smell of antifreeze and oil assaulted her nostrils even before she walked into through the broken back door. Everything in this place seemed to be broken - other than the corvette that Darryl, her boss had restored and was parked in a spot of honor at the bottom of the driveway.

Tomorrow morning bright and early she was heading north, and the excitement and anticipation pricked anxiously at her skin. Six months ago, she had finished all of her qualifications she needed to become a bush pilot, and next week she all her hard work was going to pay off as she started her first day of work at her dream job. Today she was going to pick up her last pay cheque, and walk out the door for the last time, but not before she planned to exacted a little revenge to the jerks that had insulted and taken advantage of her since the day she started.

Darryl ran the garage with impunity as if it was his own little kingdom, overcharging customers while leaving their cars unfixed and lying about how much time he spent on them. She had wanted to quit a hundred times before. She hadn't wanted to be a receptionist, she wanted to learn about cars, how they worked. She had thought that if she did, she could transfer some of the skills to her plane, one day when she got one. She knew she needed some mechanical experience, after all, if something went wrong in those remote northern villages, then there might not be anyone to help. She had taken all the shop classes in high school, and worked with her Dad when he fixed their car, but this was supposed to help her take her meager skills a little further, even if a plane wasn't exactly the same as a car. Everything Darryl had promised when he hired her had been a lie. She should have known that as he slapped her on the ass as she walked out of the interview. At the time, she had been startled, and on hindsight, she should have walked out the door and never looked back, but she had been desperate for the job. Getting your pilot's license was expensive, and getting the flight hours she needed was even more expensive. Today, putting up with all that crap was going to finally pay off, and she was going to put a few wrongs to right before she left for that final glorious time.

"What kind of disgusting coffee is this?" grumbled Darryl and spit the coffee dramatically on the stained cement floor of the office.

"Darryl, I just got here. That is yesterday's coffee. You know the coffee you told me to leave. You said you were going to drink it."

He huffed and Miranda grabbed the pot and rinsed it out before putting the grounds in the coffee maker for a fresh pot.

"I'll make you some coffee," she muttered under her breath. She waited for the pot to fill up and poured some in a mug with the Garage's logo on the front, and then checked around her to see if anyone else was looking. Safe, she spat in the coffee and then added the cream. She mixed it around and then went and found Darryl chatting with some of the other mechanics. There were three others besides Darryl. They were pretty much of the same ilke, and always let Darryl get away with things he shouldn't. But, he was their boss, and Miranda didn't blame them the way she blamed Darryl for how her day to day work life had gone.

"Your coffee," her tone was sarcastic and drawn out.

"Oooh, you're in the doghouse today," tease Wayne, a mechanic standing beside Darryl with a mocking grin on his face.

Miranda scowled. The sooner she was away from these clowns the better. She had thought for half a second about giving them two weeks notice but adamantly decided against it.

Let him squirm for a few days without me, she thought.

She heard the phone ring from her desk in the other room and Darryl looked at her as if to say, 'off you go toots'.

She rushed to the phone. Just because she wanted to make these guys pay, it was no reason to be a jerk to the customers. They were in about the same place she was when it came to dealing with them. It was too bad there weren't many garages in town to choose from to get your car fixed.

She grabbed the phone on the second ring, it was a number she recognized.

"Hello, Mr. Crandel, what's up?"

"Miranda, I know you are just the receptionist, but seriously, there is something wrong with my brakes again. They screech every time I put the pedal down. This is the third time."

Miranda had been given strict instructions to ignore this guy, but she was sure that it was because Darryl had more than likely stripped the brake pads off an old junker instead of putting the shiny new brakes he had promised. She hadn't put in an order for new brakes in weeks, and there hadn't been any on the parts shelf for ages that would fit Mr. Crandel's car. There had been a lot of bills from the wreckers that were located directly behind them. It was more than a coincidence.

"Listen Mr. Crandel, you're a nice guy. I have to tell you something, but just don't say I told you." At least, not yet, she thought. She didn't care what they learned tomorrow, she just needed to be careful until she had her last paycheque cashed. She explained to him what she knew was happening.

"I'll be there in an hour, and I'll keep your name out of it. Thank you. It's refreshing to have a bit of truth for once."

Miranda smiled as she hung up the phone. She looked through the window to the garage, hoping to see Darryl happily sipping his coffee, instead, he was marching towards her with a wet stain down the front and three mechanics laughing hysterically instead of working on the ford truck looming above them.

"What happened to you?" asked Miranda.

"Morons made me spill my coffee. I hadn't even got a sip yet."

Miranda pursed her lips. So much for that. At least she had Mr. Crandel coming down now to call them out on their lies. Something that she hadn't expected, but just might be the cherry on the revenge cake. What she was really looking forward to was seeing Darryl's wife and mistress meet for the first time. How he got two girls to fall for him was going to boggle Miranda's mind for the rest of her life.

She picked up the phone and dialed Darryl's wife's number. No answer but that wasn't a surprise, she rarely answered right away. Miranda left a message saying that she needed to come down to the shop.

She then dialed his Mistress' number and chatted for a few minutes, and then laid the news on her. That was hard, and the hurt in her voice cut Miranda to the core. She kept reminding herself that she was actually doing Missy a favor. Besides, Darryl had been stupid to bring both of them to the shop to hang out.

"I don't know why I should believe you. Darryl loves me," said Missy.

"You don't have to believe me, come down and find out for yourself. I just called his wife to tell her to come down to the garage. I'm sure she'll be here soon. Just don't tell Darryl I told you. I can't stand his lies anymore, but I don't want to get fired either."

Miranda could hear small sobs on the other end of the phone. She felt bad for being the bearer of bad news, but Missy needed to know. Besides, it's wasn't like any of the other jerks at the garage were about to spill the beans.

She hung up the phone and settled into finishing a few things up for customers, wanting to at least do a few nice things for them. She was hoping to reduce some of their bills to a more appropriate level, but try as she might, it wasn't working. Months ago she was sure she had discovered Darryl's password to get into the admin settings on the computer system. Darryl had never trusted her with any of the passwords and made her ask him to come every time any bill adjustments needed to be made. She hadn't tried it then, but had tucked the idea away in the back of her mind for the day she could quit, but after twenty minutes of trying it looked like she had been mistaken. She slammed her fist down on the desk. Her second pathetic attempt at revenge was a flop. This day wasn't going as planned. At least Mr. Crandel was coming and she was still looking forward to seeing the look on Darryl's face as both his wife and mistress walked in the door at the same time.

She checked her bank account balance on her phone to see if her cheque had been deposited in her account. It seemed to usually happen around this time. Bingo! She was in the free and clear. She had even asked for her vacation pay last week and she only had two days owing from this week. If she didn't get that, it wouldn't be a big deal. If she wanted she could walk out the door right that second and never look back, but what fun would that be? Darryl had earned what was coming towards him.

Miranda looked at the clock. Any minute now. Tick, tick, tick. She saw Mr. Crandel's car coming up the hill towards the shop along the lane. The shop was set back from a major road, but the hill was steep coming up. Coming up it in the winter hadn't always been fun. Something else she wouldn't miss. Next week this place, this job, Darryl, would all be a bad dream and she would be soaring above the sky in a plane. Her dreams were within her reach. Miranda opened the door to the shop a little more so their voices could carry in better.

She watched as Mr. Crandel got out of the car through the large picture window in the office. His face was red and his arms were flailing around as the muffled yells met Miranda's ears. Missy's car was next. Miranda put her feet up on the desk and her arms behind her neck. She was going to enjoy this. Missy was a ball of fire.

"Darryl, what is going on? I hear that you're MARRIED?"

"I'm sorry, but right now his guy has to deal with me!" interrupted Mr. Crandel. "He's been using junk parts from the wreaker's and charging full price to me. Honestly, I'd be better with the original brakes that were on my car in the first place!"

"Me being forced into being a mistress trumps your stupid brakes! You're not even denying it!" screamed Missy.

Miranda could hear snickering coming from the other mechanics in the corner. They obviously weren't getting anywhere close to this, and might even be enjoying it as much as Miranda was.

"Missy, you know you're my girl. Now go and sit your pretty behind down while I figure out why he thinks that I would ever use junk parts. I run a respectable business here. You can't just go accusing me of something like that!"

"Three failed brake jobs tells me that something fishy is going on here. You can't tell me that you are on the up and up!"

Miranda smiled and sighed. She couldn't help but think this was the best last day ever.

"You come with me," ordered Darryl. Mr. Crandel, Missy, and Darryl came into the office. Miranda got excited. She was going to have a front row seat. "Wait here."

He went to the back of the shop and came out a few minutes later, slamming some rusty parts down on the desk in front of Miranda.

"These, Mr. Crandel is a set of rusty used brakes, like the ones I took off your car. I would never have put faulty brakes on your car. What you're having problems with, the squealing and the vibrations are more than likely the bearings and the wheels. You only asked me to fix the brakes. If you want the rest done, then I would be more than happy to fix that. I told you when you first brought the car in, there could be more that you needed done. Now I have replaced the brakes for you, but this is the end of my patience."

Miranda could feel the tips of her ears burn. She knew this was a lie. Mr. Crandel looked at her accusingly.

How does he always get away with it? she wondered. Darryl, all jerks like him. Their ilke always gets away with everything, happily skipping through life treating people however they want and nothing ever happens to them. It's not fair!

"I think I should take my car elsewhere." The steam in his anger defusing by the moment. Mr. Crandel walked outside. Miranda could see him pulling out his cell phone and stood by the car as Darryl turned his attention towards her.

"Now where would he get such an idea?" his accusatory tone was unmistakeable as he looked Miranda's way. She shrugged her shoulders, did her best to look innocent.

"Darryl! How long do you expect me to sit here?" demanded Missy.

"Sweetie, baby. You know you're my girl," he cooed.

Miranda could see Darryl's wife's car turning up the driveway towards the garage. She sighed. This was going to be good. She watched as Darryl's head turned almost as if it was in slow motion and saw the familiar car coming to a park outside the garage. Miranda practically giggled as she saw the color drain out of his face.

"Ah, sweet cheeks," said Darryl. "Do you remember that ah, crazy customer I told you about. The one who's obsessed with me? Well, that is her car. I don't want her to take out anything on you. I mean, she should really be in a psychiatric facility. Go into the back store room. You should be safe there."

"If you think you can get rid of me that easily, then you have...," Missy started. Her hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Go!" Darryl commanded.

Missy's head dropped as she walked towards the store room. Miranda took a deep breath. This is all going to work out, she reassured herself.

With Missy safely hiding away, Darryl went to meet Sara-Anne out front. Miranda followed behind quietly waiting for just the right moment to call Missy out.

"Darlin' what are you doing here?" asked Darryl. The sweet tone in his voice made Miranda nauseous.

"I was told you needed me."

"Who would do that? Shouldn't you be at home? Why don't you go on back there?"

"But, but," Sara-Anne started. She looked clearly confused.

"Darryl!" shouted Mr. Crandel coming up behind Darryl. "I have talked it over with my wife, and we have decided that we will pay you to take the current brakes off my car with me watching so that I can see what part you take off and what you put on."

Smart man, thought Miranda.

"Do you seriously think that I have time for that Mr. Crandel? Can't you see that I am a busy man?"

"I can see that you're spending too much time messing around with these women to even begin to try and fix a friggin thing!"

"Darryl? What is he talking about?" asked Sara-Anne, her doe eyes wide and innocent.

"That's enough, both of you." Darryl's breath was getting a little haggard, and it was the first-time Miranda had seen him not in full control of the situation.

"Sara-Anne? Is that you?" asked Missy, coming out from the shop to meet everyone out front.

"Missy? O.M.G! I haven't seen you since we graduated from high school."

"You to know each other?" gulped Darryl. "Missy, I thought you moved here only a few months ago."

"I did, but I spent my last semester of high school living with my grandmother here in town. Sara-Anne, I can't believe it's you!"

"Have you met my husband?"

"Darryl's your husband?" Missy pursed her lips and tried to pull out a smile. Darryl laughed uncomfortably.

"Darryl? Are you going to fix my brakes or not?"

"NOT! Your brakes are fine!" shouted Darryl back, not even looking at Mr. Crandel who stormed back to his car. "Now Missy, why don't you run along. You two can catch up a little later on."

"Gracckkk!" shouted Mr. Crandel, as Miranda saw him kick the back bumper of his car in frustration. The car creaked and inched forward before starting to roll on its own.

"What now?" Darryl turned around to see the car swerving towards him picking up a little speed on the top edge of the slope. "What the...?"

"Look out!" Miranda dove towards Sara-Anne who pushed Darryl out of the way of the oncoming car with Mr. Crandel running helplessly after it. The car hit a rock and made a sharp turn right into the path of Missy who dove out of the way, veering next towards Darryl's '54 cherry red corvette parked at the bottom of the hill.

"Oh no you don't!" shouted Darryl, chasing after the car and catching up. He hooked his arm through the window, his feet stumbling underneath him and wrenched wildly on the steering wheel, sending the two of them over the curb as Darryl lost his footing and slipped under the car as it thumbed over his legs before it smashed it turned and smashed into his car.

"Oh! My Love!" shouted Missy involuntarily as she ran to Darryl's aid.

"Your love? That's my husband!" Reality hit Sara-Anne as she chased after Missy.

Miranda called the emergency services number and watched from a distance as the girls took turns screaming at each other and then at a groaning Darryl, who from a distance seemed okay, but more than likely wouldn't be once Sara-Anne and Missy were done with him. Miranda went back to her desk and started to pack up her things. Her work was done. With Darryl occupied, Miranda went to the bathroom and took a bar of soap and wrote I QUIT in large satisfied letters on the front window. The police came a few minutes later and started questioning everyone as the ambulance attendants loaded Darryl onto a gurney. Through the open door to the shop Miranda heard Mr. Crandel say over and over again, "He said my brakes were just fine...."