Revenge is a dish best served cold
I sit in darkness, fireplace embers smoldering, the bottle of
Pinot Noir almost empty. Earlier I read an article
suggesting that we derive our feelings of well being from how closely
our friendship abilities match those of our friends, so I send Bob an email:
Dear Bob, I have good news and bad news. Had I
rated myself as a “2” on Everyday Psychology’s friendship ability
scale, you would be seen as a suitable friend. The bad news is
that I rated myself at "9" (modesty prevented me from using a
“10”) and you at “1”, so we’re too far apart to be a good match.
I know that you’re likely thinking that some of this has to do
with Linda. But let me assure you that
it doesn’t. The good news is that she too rates a “1”, roughly the
equivalent to that of a Slime Mold. This explains
why you two are doing so well.
The next day, I receive a complaint from the Slime Slander
Society. Their woolly-headed biologist claims that I've unfairly
stereotyped Slime Molds, and were I to open my mind, I'd find they
play an important ecological role in the decomposition of organic
material. I reply that I am well aware of their value since I
had only to open my fridge after Linda left to see them playing their vital role. I
wonder whether Bob put them onto me.
the acrid taste
of stale wine