True story....

*names have been changed.

I heard the voice of satan, coming through my innocent samsung phone.

"Hey, it's Josh. Something pretty bad happened last night- *mumblemumblemumble* -I'm at the DMV- *mumblemumble* -no ride *more mumbling* -I know that would be a lot to ask. Yeah. Okay bye."

Josh, my ex-boyfriend of maybe three weeks. The one who had completely fucked me over after eight months. Broke up with me saying "the only reason I kept you around was because you were a good lay." and then some excuse about how young I am and he needed someone his own age (thirty-two...) so he could "progress" and "move forward" with his life. He was verbally abusive and a pathological liar. But he claimed he really cared about me. Suree buddy.

He needed a ride because of the "terrible something" that had happened last night. This was either going to be an awful idea or a very good one. What could have happened? Nothing was bad enough for him I thought, but still, if some catastrophic thing happened I wanted to know about it. Compelled mainly by curiosity, and the fact that I have compassion for all living things, inconsiderate douchey pricks included, I drove to the DMV.

There he was. Sitting on the steps. With the creepiest pedophoile moustache I had ever seen. Someone can reaaaallllly go downhill in three weeks.

He climbed in my car and I couldn't help but smirk to myself. He looked like shit, and didn't smell much better.

"So...what happened?" I said.

Basically, Josh, who is thirty-two, has a suspended licence. He took his companies work truck to finish a landscaping job without telling his boss. Bossman drives by and sees the truck is missing, and calls the cops.

This is gonna be good.

At this point in the story I am already cracking up in my car. Josh's head is hung in shame as he relays to me the story in a dull, lifeless voice.

Josh's boss calls him to tell him the truck has been stolen. Josh tells his boss HE has the truck. His boss calls the cops says the truck has not been stolen, that their employee, Josh Johnson has the truck.

The cops run Josh's name...uh oh Josh.

I am literally crying as he tells me this, trying to see the road through my tears of laughter is not an easy task.

When Josh goes to drop the truck back off, there are the cops waiting for him. To take him to jail. Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Do you know what a strip search is Erica?! The make you get naked, tell you to lift up your balls. Turn around, BEND OVER, spread your ass cheeks...everything. Then they gave me a jumpsuit to wear."

Silence on my part.

He looks over.

I CANNOT BREATHE I AM LAUGHING SO HARD.

I compose myself enough to gasp,"Orange jump suit?"

"No, navy blue." He says flatly.

"Oh, at least it was your color." I burst out laughing.

His face is bright red, which is definitely not his color.

"My roomate was this big black guy who was masturbating on the top bunk. He kept talking to me while he was doing it, I think to cover up the fact that he was jerking off-"

I interrupt "-Maybe he just liked the sound of your voice Josh."

His expression is PRICELESS.

"He said I was living proof that the system didn't work. Because I had gone to college, had a career as a pro-football player, and still wound up in the same cell as him. All I could think about was how much I missed you Erica."

Uhh, is that supposed to be a compliment?

"You don't have to hate me," he says.

"I don't care enough about you to hate you Josh. I wasted eight months loving you, I'm not going to waste another eight hating you." I say. It's true.

I have to pity the guy though. Apparently when you go to jail they take your money, phone, belt, etc. and MAIL it back to you, so Josh spent last night in jail and now has no phone or money, and his pants are falling down. Ha. Ha.

"I wonder if they'll send my phone by tomorrow," he says.

"I mean, you could always call them and ask...oh, wait." I smile. He flicks me off.

I decide I can't let him go home just yet, I'm having too much fun torturing him. He's clearly so miserable, and it's so so easy to take advantage of that misery. After all of the horrible things he did to me, this is a gift from God, this revenge.

"Well, you should eat something let me buy you lunch." I say, faking concern.

I can tell by the expression on his face he thinks I am going to start being nice to him now. Wrong again Josh. I can tell he thinks that maybe I am coming around, that maybe he has a chance. But he doesn't realize I've spent the past three weeks reminding myself of every horrible thing he ever did to me, and the list is lonnnnggg. I will never fall back into those arms again.

We go to some skeevy mexican grill. I let him flirt with me in line. But never flirted back, but he's too stupid to realize that. He orders his burrito. I order nothing. I sit across from him. He is thinking he's going to break me down and get me back in his bed.

And then, oh miracles of miracles, the ultimate break-up song of all time comes on. With that opening piano I see him freeze, his spine turning to ice. I am overjoyed. It is too too perfect. My lips curl in a smile. I close my eyes and begin to hum, almost inaudibly. He has not looked up yet

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, You don't know how lovely you are...

Thank you Coldplay.

...I had to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I've set you apart...

I start humming louder. Josh has stopped chewing his food, eyes still on his plate.

...Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions,oh, let's go back to the start...

I have now begun to sing the words, very quietly, grinning like an idiot. His shoulders sag.

...Running in circles, coming up tails, heads on the science apart...

He finally looks up, and I am two inches from his stupid face singing with joyous, reckless abandon at the top of my lungs for all to hear:

"NOBODY SAAAAAAAAAAAAID IT WAS EASYYYY! IT'S SUCH A SHAAAAAAME FOR US TO PARRRRT! NOOOOBODYYYYY SAIIIIIID IT WAS EAAAAAAASYYYY!!!! BUT NO ONE EVER SAID THAT IT WOULD BEEE THISSSSS HAAARRRRRDDDD!!!!"

I think he got the message.

Josh walked home. And I drove away, with the best closure in the history of relationships