Wicked

Since I've been pretty much a freaking saint for quite a while - in the regular meaning in the word ( including the much-cursed vow of celibacy ), it's obvious that all that desperately bottled-up wickedness has to surface somewhere sometime.

Like the proverbial Pandora's box, my wicked little sins and all the other nasty habits of mine have been kept locked-up tight for the sake of the greater good but every once in a while, little bits of maleficence just ooze out of the inevitable cracks, hence the occasional malignant thought. Rarely an act these days though ( termed my uncanny psychotic breaks where I wreak havoc and mayhem on the civilized world as we know it ) ever since I cried repentance, reigned in my wicked impulses and turned to medicine for a guiding light.

But all it needs is sufficient trigger for the minuscule creaking locks to fly open on that uneasy latch, allowing all my private demons to fly free. This time, a big-biceped victim and a 500 metre swimming pool acted in tandem as the catalyst.

Just a stone's throw away from my house, there is a certain private poolhouse belonging to the estate's clubhouse which has been lying unused for a few months due to the lack of manpower and administration. Simply such a waste of resources - and the avid swimmer, Big Bicep Barry totally agreed.


Are you planning something?
Of course the man didn't know that little clubhouse rules and regulations have never stopped me - well, some would say that silly rules actually spur me on to break them. Juvenile rebel that I used to be, the chains of authority frequently goaded me to revolt. Still Barry certainly never knew exactly what he was stirring up when he made a mention a few days after he came back from his island expedition. Little did he know the mischief he would cause.

Barry : Would be nice if the pool was open. Could take a swim.
Paul : Who says it has to be open? The pool is filled and there are lights.
Barry : You have an evil look on your face.
Paul : Hmmm... see, the guard doesn't sit there all night, it's dark enough on the other side of the fence...
Barry : Uhh... What's going on?

Since the usually courageous Barry ( despite his irrational fear of flying SUVs and dancing fried chicken ) balked at such an intrepid plan, I simmered down and kept my possibly illegal thoughts to myself. Certainly no need to have the poor guy serve as my unwilling cellmate - although delicious visions of jailhouse mansex come to mind. My repeated assurances that I wasn't planning anything wild and woolly only served to make him more suspicious.

He was right.

It did take some time for my plan to gather fruition, needing just the right ingredients and the perfect timing, but it was such delicious fun being wicked. Nothing like a midnight swim, is there?