Taking Sweet, Sweet Revenge - Part II

Mrs. Magdalen and her husband were retired, and lived in a really nice house, with a really nice income. Nevertheless, perhaps just to remain a productive member of society, the evil lady used to make potato chips to sell. She used to make them chips in a tiny room on the second floor; from my balcony, I could see her sometimes, through her open window. The only thing separating our houses was a wall, on top of which they'd put some barbed wire.

My house - and the party wall with the barbed wire.

One day, I saw them going out in their car. That meant: visiting their children and grandchildren. And that meant: out all day.
I got 2 boys for the job: T., aka Chuck, (the first boy to have ever wooed me and taken me out on a date) and J., whom I had known all my life. I had a love/hate relationship with him.
And both boys were always up to any kind of mischief.
J. stood guard outside. Chuck and I walked on the parapet of the balcony, then went over to the party wall; the barbed wire was not a problem; then, he grabbed the window sill and pulled himself into the room. I followed his example (he helped me, for I was considerably weaker). We looked around.
There were piles and piles of potatoes, and several big boxes filled with bags of potato chips, ready for sale. A lot of newspapers - she used to dry the chips in those - and a machine, that I assumed had a vital role in the making of the aforementioned snack. I find myself nowadays utterly incapable of describing said machine - I just remember thinking it resembled my mom's sewing machine enormously.

Huh. Perhaps it WAS a sewing machine, now that I think of it. But what would it be doing in the Potato Room?!
I shall never be able to understand Mrs. Magdalen's Evil Ways.

Chuck dismantled some parts of the machine and hid them around, while I scattered kilos and kilos of potatoes all over the stairs - they rolled pretty nicely, thudding all the way down. We tore all the newspapers into little pieces, throwing them all around and out the window.
Finally, the potato chips. After some quick debate, we settled on taking them all with us.
We called J., and told him to go back to my balcony. Then, we spent at least half an hour just handing ALL the bags of chips over to him.
Chuck and I got out of the House of Evil the same way we'd gotten in. From the balcony, we could see hundreds of potatoes that had rolled their way into the yard. We took the booty to my bedroom, and split it three ways.
A while later, we went to the living room and watched a couple of movies, while eating an awful lot of chips.
We were still there when we heard Mrs. Magdalen's car pulling into the garage. In no time she rang our bell. I answered the door, polite as all hell:
"Oh, hi Mrs. Magdalen, how are you?"
"Oh child, I'm a mess! Could I talk to your mother?"
"Sure, hold on a sec! Moooooooom!"
***
My mom: "Oh, hi Mrs. Magdalen, how are you?". (I'm very much like my mother.)
Mrs. Magdalen: "My house! It's a mess! Somebody was in there!"
My mom: "What do you mean? Did they steal anything?"
Mrs. Magdalen: "No, I don't think so! Have you seen anyone around here today? One of those awful kids, maybe?"
My mom: "I'm so sorry, I haven't! Let me ask R. Honey," she turned to me, still on the sofa with J. and Chuck "have you guys seen anyone entering Mrs. Magdalen's?"
I shook my head. "We were upstairs, sorry..."
We resumed our movie - none of us laughed or even smiled for even a second. We were the perfect image of innocence. Eventually, she went back home, and we heard a good deal of sweeping. I also noticed she didn't sell a lot of potato chips for a couple of weeks.
And it never occurred to her to suspect R., the kid next door. I just happened to be the most well-behaved kid in the goodamn neighborhood. Who wished everyone a good morning and a good evening, said "please" and "thank you" and inquired after their family's well-being. The one with her nose stuck in a book at all times. The mere idea of THAT kid doing something like that was ridiculous.

I spent the entire following month eating chips at school. And then, it took me a year to eat any kind of chips again. At least I saved up lunch money, and bought the new Backstreet Boys CD with my savings, plus many second-hand Agatha Christie books. Double victory! *thumbs up*

I moved to another city at the end of that year, and never saw her again - even though I still go back there every now and then, to see the friends I left behind. They tell me she's terribly sick, possibly dying. My reaction? Honestly?? I shrugged. We all did. I don't revel in her current condition, but I don't care either.

As for my revenge... it was childish and petty. Measly. I did not get Rolf back, nor Victor Hugo. She'd lost no one dear to her (well, what was I to do, feed lead to her grandchildren?!).
Nonetheless, I'd done SOMETHING. That was all I could ask for.

                                Rolf and I.