I must confess
that when I spilled
my Snapple
all over your new
“designer” clothes,
it was no accident.

I was sad to see the last half
of my strawberry kiwi
goodness
get soaked up,
but it was worth it.

When I saw your
swaggering form
flaunting down the hallway
with a sneer on your face,
I did not think.

It was but all too easy
to pretend
that I tripped,
that my bottle tipped.

The look on your face
was no longer
smug, but filled with
rage as you screamed.
I gave you puppy eyes
and professed
just how sorry I was.

I was in fact,
actually
trying to mask my delight
that no one else would
endure
your arrogant,
conceited, wrath
for the rest of the day.