Should I decide who lives and who dies?
Traitrs
I try to hide
From them
And everything inside.
The Excavator
Once upon a time, I started my daily digging adventures in the sandbox alongside my fellow little diggers. I was determined to discover what China looked like, believing that if I dug deep enough, I would uncover it. With this excitement, I reached the bottom of the sandbox, wielding my trusty yellow shovel.
Despite my best efforts, the solid ground proved too tough for my dependable tool. Suddenly, I noticed the neighbour boy striding toward the sandbox as if he owned the place, his dad proudly carrying the top digger, an iron excavator, among us enthusiastic sandbox diggers.
We gathered around this incredible metal marvel, which shone like the sun. Glancing at my plastic shovel, I realised I wanted the sand digger of a lifetime.
- Can I try?
- No. It’s mine.
When darkness fell on the sandbox and fellow diggers were listening to their bedtime stories, I went to the sandbox and dragged the excavator into the nearby forest.
My actions were not noticed in the neighbourhood or at home because kids were divided into two groups: those with a family at home and those without. This made my revenge possible, and the flame began to burn in my eyes. The excavator’s eyes were created that night, and that flame is equal to the fire of Hell.
Hit list
I have carried out four strategic acts of revenge with a clear plan, ensuring that I take what I’m owed. Each one has succeeded exceptionally well, and despite what others might think, I feel a sense of satisfaction with no regrets whatsoever.
I intended to share the stories of these impactful acts of revenge, but my BFF took on the role of editor instead of stepping up as my campaign manager for “The Solo of the Year 2025.” She believed it was better to keep these events as untold stories, which made me question her reasoning. Is it because we shouldn’t acknowledge our darker sides, or is she unwilling to see me expose how Bad Seed I am?
After careful consideration, I chose to share just two revenges while enjoying the role of a silent revenger. Still, as a Bad Seed and to my editor’s nightmare, I openly acknowledge that I also have a hit list that contains one name.
My hit list used to include more names, but karma and the natural course of life have taken care of them, leaving me with a strong sense of payback
This hasn’t stopped me from envisioning more inventive ways to make my opponents experience my excavator’s gaze. One of my most compelling strategies began with contemplating what I would do if I won the lottery. Where would I invest my millions of euros? Would seeking revenge be one of my objectives? Absolutely not. I won’t waste a single cent, and that’s precisely why it’s called payback.
Grande Mafioso
I’ve imagined a bold and creative strategy for achieving my goal: marrying a mafia guy. By playing the role of a victim and voicing my grievances about unfair treatment, my grande mafioso could send a few of his associates to tickle their knees.
This approach was tested successfully when I was one of the children accused in the case of the missing excavator. I rallied my older siblings —four of them—about my unfair accusations and had the meanest among them tickle these accusers.
I also have mastered the kitchen and demonstrated my skills in silently concealing unwanted items in the forest, so becoming a wife to a mafioso feels like a natural step for me.
The true winner
My talent for payback has proven effective with larger groups, not just individuals, especially when I entered a competition. It was my first time, and I envisioned myself skiing to the podium as a champion, crushing all the other 2nd graders. My stepdad helped amplify my potential for victory by whipping up a secret sports drink of eggs and sugar. Armed with this legal boost, I felt unstoppable in my pursuit of triumph.
I ended up finishing last.
When I returned home, the flames blazed in my excavator’s eyes. I refused to feel sorry for myself or shed tears of defeat; instead, I was fueled by a fierce determination. Losing the victory was one thing, but the teacher’s announcement that winners would celebrate on the podium the following day intensified my resolve.
My parents, failing to interpret my tears of anger, crafted a medal just for me. They may have viewed things differently, but their support fit seamlessly into my payback plan.
The next morning, I showed up alongside the other winners because, make no mistake, I was the true winner, proudly sporting my own impressive 1st place medal. It was larger than others, sparkled with more glitter than it could handle, and its golden ribbon shone brilliantly. I crushed them all—over 600 other losers.
Pirates & Ninjas
They say,” While seeking revenge, dig two graves—one for yourself.” Well, I have dug one grave for others and one hole for myself. I Didn’t uncover China down there, but I struck oil that fueled my excavator’s eyes and empowered me to rise from the depths. This discovery drives me forward, allowing me to execute my silent acts of revenge and raid treasures as payback.
Jim: That guy just shot me and stabbed me with his sword at the same time. His breath smelled like rum, it must have been a Pinja
Urban Dictionary
Ben: A Pinja? you mean a pirate and a ninja crossed? but the best of both?
Jim: Exactly. Lets go to some strikeouts.
Ben: word
This editor may be concerned about the flames in my eyes, but I’m undeterred. I’ve measured the depths of the hole I’m digging with my yellow shovel, but I am confident that, with oil as my ally, I will unearth the true treasure within me—a diamond forged by life’s pressure. I am Pinja—a fierce fusion of pirate and ninja, with an unquenchable fire blazing in my excavator’s eyes.
P.S. If my last name takes on an Italian flair one day, you’d better watch your back…
Now you, punk, you gotta get ready
James Brown
For the big payback
Let me tell you a story 
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