One of the more satisfying things to do are those that we are expressly prohibited to do so. Perhaps it’s because it’s our way of giving the prohibitor the finger without exactly being ‘in your face’ about it.
I’ve known several guys who are like docile sheep when in a confrontation who are also the most vicious people I’ve ever known. One had a really pleasant and cheerful disposition but when he decided to commit a rather evil act, stuck to his guns and swore before heaven and earth that he did not do it. I kept my mouth shut because he was my friend and I was really privy to what was going on. The aggrieved party was a wicked man himself and he was really in deep shit because of what my friend did.
I’ve had my wicked episodes before and I’m not even sure if such an evil streak can be contained once the appropriate situation presents itself. I must have had that extra Y chromosome in secret when I was conceived. They say those who have it are more prone to violence, hence labelling those who have it as having the criminal gene. Ok, perhaps that’s a bit extreme when applied to me, I may be the evil schemer of things, but I won’t deliberately pick up a gun and shoot somebody; although it doesn’t mean that it’s beyond me to give another guy a gentle nudge so he’d pull the trigger for me.
Lately, I’ve had my share of being told what and what not to do. Being my agreeable self, of course I said that I understand and wouldn’t even think of doing it. But I did it anyway just to spite that loathsome bastard. I didn’t even derive a lot of satisfaction from doing those things, they’re just those “you don’t own me so don’t fucking tell me what to do” things.
You know what I mean?