A/N: I feel that I must warn you… this is my first original fiction so it may seem like something that came out of an elephant's rear compared to other stories here. Don't care? Well… that's nice.



"BWAAAAAAAAAAHH!!"

Sarah's entire house shook as she offered her lap to her best friend, Lily, who bawled her eyes out, emptying her nose into a thin layer of Kleenex that seemed useless when she felt liquid dripping down her skirt and to her knees. Her best friend had indeed, been dumped. Again.

Despite the gooey moisture that she could only guess was Lily's snot, all she could do was sit there and comfort her.

"There, there," she patted her head.

"He dumped me!" Lily wailed. "He dumped me like yesterday's tuna casserole!"

Tuna… what time's lunch? She shook off her thoughts and continued patting.

"Why, Sarah, why?!"

She'd finally had enough. As gently as she could manage, Sarah grabbed Lily's shoulders and raised her up so they were staring face to face. "Stop it, Lillian. Okay? Stop it. Scott's a jerk. He's just too dense to see what he's missing. You shouldn't be crying over some guy who doesn't even know the difference between boxers and briefs. Besides… you don't really want to be 'Mrs. Snickerdoodle' someday, do you?"

Lily sniffed and coughed, and Sarah suddenly felt rain in her room for about a millisecond. "You're right," she sniffed. "You're absolutely right! I'll show him! I'll show him how strong I can be!"

Sarah smiled, finally seeing a beacon of hope shining above Lily's head. "That's right! Show him! Show him like you've never shown him before!"

"And I'll be stronger than I've ever been! I'll-I'll…" she suddenly stopped. "I'll cry and cry 'til I can cry no more!"

Sarah sighed. Yeah… incredible hulk.

That night, after watching her friend leave, heartbroken and torn, Sarah sat in her 'office'—which consisted of the TV, a couch, a coffee table, a stack of Popstar magazines, and a painting of what looked like last night's spaghetti—and devised a plan for world domination. Well… at least a good enough plan to seek revenge for her best friend since the day she stole her pink crayon in kindergarten.

Tick, tock, tick, tock… the clock went, taunting her as her eye twitched in anticipation. Then suddenly, as if someone had lit a light bulb over her head, a devious plot formulated itself in her mind.

Justice must be served.

She jumped off the couch and grabbed the tattered phone book rotting under the coffee table and quickly searched for the culprit's house number.

Snickerdoodle. She grabbed the phone and punched in the numbers inked on the yellow pages, automatically assuming that it was Scott's house. After all, how many families in the United States of America—no, in the world—have Snickerdoodle as a last name?

After what seemed like an eternity, the ringing finally stopped and a feminine voice picked up. "Snickerdoodle residence,"

She smiled—feeling like a dimwit afterwards when she realized the woman couldn't see her—and said in the sweetest voice she could muster, "Um, I'm sorry for disrupting your evening, ma'am, but may I ask, is Scott home?"

The woman seemed to buy the faux sweetness. "Oh, yes, hold on, dear."

She heard shuffling, a monstrous yell of 'Scott!', followed by a faint 'I'm coming, I'm coming', and more shuffling.

"Hello?"

Jumping in her seat, Sarah held the phone away from her face as she cleared her throat in an attempt to make her voice sound murderously husky but it sounded more like a cat coughing up a fur ball. "Blaaacch!" she gasped through her throat.

"Hello?" Scott called, impatience coloring his tone. "Are you there?"

Sarah blew one last cough before speaking into the mouthpiece. "Scott Benjamin Timothy Snickerdoodle," she laughed devilishly. Wow. She was impressed at how scary her voice sounded. She could already hear him trembling from fear. He should.

"Um… yeah?" he squeaked and it took all of her determination to keep from laughing out loud. It sounded like someone stepped on a chew toy.

She let out another evil chuckle and thought she heard him call 'mommy' on the other end. "I'm sorry to inform you, Mr. Timothy, but—"

"I-I sort of prefer… S-S-Sc-Scott,"

"Mr. Timothy shall not interrupt me when I am speaking!"

"Mr. Timothy it is,"

Sarah clicked her tongue. "As I was saying, I regret to be the one recruited to inform you, but… eh, who am I kidding? Shall I just skip to the point?"

"Y-Yes?" it sounded more like a question rather than an answer.

"Oh, um, very well then," she cleared her throat. "In the next one hundred and sixty-eight hours, you shall indulge in your ultimate sufferable doom with death no more painful than getting dismantled into smithereens by a hound of wild dogs and distributed across all parts of the Northern and Southern Atlantic where each piece shall—" she took a breath. "—freeze to death before resident polar bears eventually turn you into a feast so grand it makes the queen of England look like an overdressed leprechaun and you shall be given no other option than to scream like a girl until the break of dawn."

There was silence on the other line, until Scott's voice cracked like a nut. "Huh?"

"In short, you will die in seven days. Thank you and have a good day."

She hung up the phone.

The next day, the entire student body buzzed about the rumor that Scott Snickerdoodle had reportedly dropped out of school and had exiled himself to a remote, deserted island somewhere in the midst of the Mediterranean.

Sarah actually felt guilty.

Nah.

"Friends will always say, 'well, you deserve better' when you're rejected.
Best friends will be prank calling the guy, saying, 'you will die in seven days'."



A/N: Just to be clear, I have nothing against the queen of England. That is all. Please review and let me know what you thought!