Mel's Messy Comeuppance

It was Friday afternoon, and expectations at the Johnson-Warner Auto Parts Factory were running high. Everyone knew about the bet that Bobby and Mel had made over who would win the Super Bowl. Bobby bet on Kansas City while Mel was certain that her 49ers would prevail. Mel was wrong. HA!

Bobby and Mel had been best friends ever since grade school. Everyone wondered not if, but when, they would finally tie the knot. For now, however, the two friends always needled each other and picked on their best friend incessantly. They were always pulling pranks on one another, pranks such as suspending a bowl of cold water over a door so that one or the other would get a good dousing when he or she walked through the door. And either one was just as quick, to throw a pie in the face of the other, at the drop of a hat. Ha! Bobby would even joke that he would provide the hat.

On this day, though, their messy antics were going far and above the norm. And since Mel lost the bet, she would be on the receiving end of it. Mel loved to dress sexy and today was no different. She was wearing her favorite San Francisco shirt. It was a white T-shirt with the 49er's logo on it. Mel had bought it when she first started rooting for the Bay-area team. It was well-worn to that just right, comfortable, stage. She never missed a 49ers game and always wore it. And it had been a requirement, by Bobby, that she wear the shirt if Kansas City won. Underneath that shirt, Mel was wearing a red, with black and white trim, teddy that really accented her fantastic body. Bobby, who was always the more laid back and casual of the two, except when pulling a prank, wore a pair of well-worn khaki slacks and an orange polo shirt to reflect his Tennessee roots. On most days, he wore a pair of well broken-in cowboy boots, black of course and highly polished. Old they may be, but his boots were always practical and functional. On this day, however, Bobby wore a pair of black track shoes. His reasoning was he may need better traction. Ha! And being the practical guy he was, Bobby had left his black Stetson Revenger cowboy hat at home. It was his favorite hat, the same type that Michael Landon, playing Little Joe Cartwright, on the old television show, Bonanza, wore, though his was gray. Although the lost bet meant Mel would be the one to get messy, Bobby knew better than to fully trust her when so much mess was laying around. And he did not want anything to happen to his favorite hat. Mel had already ruined one hat. Ha!

By 3:00 PM the employee's dining room had been emptied and cleaned up. All the tables had been pushed to the sides of the room, leaving the interior clear of everything. And now, a large group of people, factory employees of the day shift were all standing, more or less, in a circle, around a single chair, the only piece of furniture left in place.

"Shit," Mel said as she stepped through the crowd and took a seat in that chair. She knew what was coming. And the look on her face was not a happy one.

Bobby. Why did I make that bet with you? Why? I knew better. You know your football. I should a listened to my dad . . . but I was so sure this was Frisco's year. FUCK!

As she looked around, Mel could sense that it was about even as how the feelings ran. Some of these coworkers were her friends and some were Bobby's. She saw looks of sympathy on some faces while others were all but taunting her with their big grins.

Then a bubble of noise arose from the far end of the silent group around Mel. Straining to see over those nearest her, Mel caught a glimpse of Bobby as he strode through the crowd. As usual his demeaner was one of being laid back and with the world.

Ooh. Why does he have to be so insufferable? Why can't he be strutting like a peacock? He won, I lost. He should be thumbing his nose, be arrogant . . . be . . . ooh . . . anything. Anything but . . . this. I can't even be angry with him. He doesn't brag. He doesn't taunt. Shit! Sometimes, I just hate him.

No. No, not really. I love him to death. I really do. But times like this . . . ooh I want to strangle him.

As the crowd parted, Bobby walked right up to where Mel sat in that rickety plastic chair. As usual he had on something that was, as he phrased it, the right shade of orange. Being from Tennessee, Bobby was a Volunteers fan and they wore a very distinctive shade of orange. As Bobby would always say, there are three types of orange, Real orange which is what Syracuse wears, ugly, or burnt orange, which is what Texas wears, and then there is UT orange. And that is by far the prettiest color. HA!

"Hi Mel," Bobby said as he held out his arms for a hug. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy-keen, Bobby. Everything is just great. Well, except for the fact that you are going to totally trash me in front of everyone." But she smiled as Mel returned his hug.

Despite the grin on her face, Bobby could tell that Mel was anything but happy.

Well, you probably shouldn't have made that bet, Mel.

"Good," he replied behind a wicked smile, "I'm so glad you are ready to take your just desserts, Mel."

"Ooh, kiss my ass, Bobby. Just get on with it."

"Well," but he pronounced it Way-a-ell, "if that's the way you want it." And then Bobby gave a shrill whistle, and two guys came from the back. And they were pushing large carts.

"Oh, fuck me," Mel mumbled under her breath.

Oh shit. I am going to get so fucked up.

Mel started counting, one, two, three, five, ten . . . yep, twelve. He has twelve pies. That was the bet. And on the other cart, Mel saw three large pots, well two large pots and an even larger bucket. And she knew what was in each of them. Mel had made the bet and picked the messy items for what she was so sure would be Bobby's just desserts. Mel never thought it would be her that would be wearing all that chocolate gunge.

The first pot, a ten-quart stock pot, was full of the same chocolate pudding that was used in the twelve pies. The second pot was filled to the brim with chocolate fudge cake batter. And the third pot, actually, a five-gallon bucket, was brimming with Hershey's finest chocolate syrup.

Now, as she looked at all the messy chocolate goo that was going to descend upon her, Mel started having second thoughts.

"Uh, Bobby . . ." she paused, trying to gather her thoughts, "I know we had this bet, but . . . well, do we really have to . . ."

"Trying to welch on our bet, Mel? Hmm, I thought better of you."

Mel hung her head, as if in shame, but then looked up.

"Uh Bobby, that's really a lot of . . ."

But he cut her off, "A bet is a bet, Mel. You know it as well as I do." After a brief pause, Bobby continued, "and you know you wouldn't hesitate to trash me if you had won."

"YOU KNOW IT!" Bobby said, raising his voice. "Remember last year. Remember what you did?"

"Yeah, but it was different . . ."

"Oh, just shut up and take your punishment, Mel . . . okay."

Fuck . . . okay.

"Okay, Bobby. You did win and I'm going to take my medicine, my messy medicine. HA! But your time is coming. Next time, I will win. And when I do, I'm going to . . ."

SPLATTT!!!

But Bobby cut her off. He got tired of listening to Mel's tirade. And so, with a loud splat, Bobby slammed one of those especially gooey chocolate pies into his best friend's face. Gooey brown muck went everywhere. Mel's face was instantly covered in chocolate pudding as was much of her scalp. And as Bobby ground in that messy pie, he completely trashed his friend's $150 dollar hairdo and her forty-five-minute make-up job done just that morning. Mel was a mess, a complete mess. And it wasn't going to get any better. Ha!

"Shit," Mel mumbled under her breath.

OH, this is going to get bad, really bad!

As Mel sat there, with chocolate gunge running off her chin and onto her boobs, some of the onlookers started laughing. And this did not improve her disposition at all.

Bobby, now that he had broken the ice, so to speak, picked up another pie. Mel looked on with dread, knowing there wasn't anything she could do but take it.

This time, Bobby did not smash the pie into Mel's face. He kind of slowly pushed that muck monster into her face, taking his time as he ground all that sloppy brown goo onto Mel's face. It took him a good ten to fifteen seconds before he was finished. And Mel, who never was known for her patience, ran out of it before he was finished.

"Come on, you fucking bastard. Just finish it . . ."

SPLATT!

Mel never got to finish her sentence. Just as she was going to let Bobby have a piece of her mind, he picked up another pie and from a distance of two feet he threw it into her face. The pie exploded on impact. The crust disintegrated and the chocolate slop went everywhere. Since she was talking at the time, Mel ingested some of that chocolate goo and started coughing as she tried to clear her airway.

"You son-of-a . . . pbbt, pbt, hak, cough, pbbt . . . shit!"

"Oh, you son-of-a-bitch. Bobby, I'm gonna . . ."

Splatt!!

But Bobby shut her up again, with another pie in the face. By now, Mel's entire head was covered with sloppy brown muck.

"You bastard . . . you fucking son-of-a-bitch. You just wait until I get my hands on you. I will . . . what's that? What are you doing?"

Mel had seen Bobby pick up a pair of pies, one in each hand. And now he was walking toward her. A sense of dread overcame her.

"What are you doing, Bobby?"

"Oh, I just thought that maybe, you might be hungry. I thought you might like a nice sandwich," he said, grinning.

"No, I don't need any stupid sandwich. I'm not hungry."

But as Bobby circled around behind Mel, she began to sense something was up. Trying to see what her friend was doing; Mel began to fidget in her chair.

"What are you doing, Bobby? What . . . no . . . no . . . don't you . . ."

As realization sat in, Mel looked back at Bobby with startled eyes.

"Don't you . . . dare. Don't you DARE!" This last came out in a shout.

But he did. Bobby dared!

SPA-LATTTT!!!!

And he let Mel have it. Bobby slammed both of those muck monsters into the sides of Mel's face in what is known as a pie sandwich. And he grounded them in really good. He slathered that brown muck over the top of Mel's scalp and down the back of her head, as well. In fact, Bobby completely covered Mel's head. When he was finished every square inch of Mel's head was covered in sloppy chocolate pudding.

And was she pissed.

As sloppy brown goo rolled off Mel's head, she was livid. If Bobby could have seen her face through all that mucky sludge, he would have seen how furious she was.

Looking down at her ruined San Francisco 49ers t-shirt and seeing that most of it was covered with that sloppy chocolate pudding, Mel, now reached down and pulled it over her gunge-covered head. When she had the messy garment off, Mel tried to hit Bobby with it, but her errant toss went wide right. Ha!

"Looks like your pro team is no better than the Florida State Seminoles were when their kicker kept blowing field goals against the Miami Hurricanes," Bobby replied with a snide look on his clean face.

Ooh . . . ooh . . . you son-of-a-bitch.

"Bobby, so help me, I will . . ."

SPLATT!!

Before Mel could finish her sentence, though, Bobby hit her with another pie.

"Bobby . . . stop it. STOP, you fucking bastard!"

"But why," he asked? "I'm having so much fun. And beside that, I still have five more pies."

"Yeah, I know, but . . ."

"And you were the one who came up with the idea, remember, Mel."

Shit. The son-of-a-bitch . . .

"But Bobby," Mel all but wailed, "don't you think this is enough?" She was openly pouting now, since Mel knew she could usually get her way if she manipulated Bobby just right.

Ha! Not this time, though.

SPLATT!!

Before she realized what he was doing, Bobby had picked up and tossed another of those gooey muck monster pies into her face. And that only added to her enragement.

"You son-of-a-bitch!"

Oh, you fucking bastard. I am so going to enjoy getting you back for that.

But for now, Mel saw Bobby, once again, pick up two of those mucky monsters of mess.

"Uh oh," Mel barely breathed as she saw her best friend walk toward her. "Bobby . . . Bobby, what are you doing?"

But as Bobby came to a stop directly in front of his friend, he motioned for Mel to stand up.

"What . . . what's that Bobby?" Mel asked in confusion.

"Stand up, please," Bobby said in a tone that would brook no disobedience.

With chocolate glop still running off her head, Mel stood up.

"What . . . uh . . . what do you want now?"

But before she knew what he had in mind, Bobby stepped forward and slapped those two pies onto Mel's boobs, in what is called a pie bra.

"SHIT! You Fucking Bastard!"

Ooh, I'm going to get the son-of-a-bitch. So, help me, if it's the last thing I ever do, I will get him for this.

But Bobby, thinking it was the most hilarious thing he had ever done started cackling like an old hen as he slopped all that cold, brown, muck all over Mel's tits.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Mel practically spat the words out as Bobby kept grinding that brown slop onto her barely-covered boobs.

"I'm going to . . . arrrghh" Mel cried out as she slipped in the grimy goo on the floor at her feet. She was able to arrest her fall, though, by grabbing hold of that muck-covered, rickety chair.

This, however, left Mel with her butt stuck up in the air. And that was too much of a temptation for Bobby to pass up.

SLAPPPP!!!!

"OUCH!!"

With a howl of pain as well as rage, Mel let out a blood-curdling scream.

"YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!"

But as Mel stood there trying to message the sting from her smarting ass, Bobby picked up the last pie and with a sardonic laugh, he brought it straight down on top of Mel's head, splattering even more brown muck down her face and shoulders.

"Ha, Mel, I wouldn't want you to catch cold, so I thought I would give you a hat . . . a pie hat!"

The look that Mel gave him would have curdled milk. If looks could kill, Bobby would have been dead, buried, and already decomposed.

As Bobby stepped back to view the messy destruction he had wrought upon his friend, Mel stood there, totally humiliated and obviously distraught.

Ooh . . . I'm gonna get you, Bobby. So, help me. I will get you for this. If it's the last thing I ever do. I will get you.

To say that Mel was a mess would be an understatement. She was a trainwreck. Although Mel wasn't totally covered in the chocolate goo, most of her from the waist up was a mess. It would only get worse. Ha!

Now as the two friends, the two best friends stood there, looking at each other, Bobby, with a holier than thou attitude, while Mel's face radiated absolute rage, their friends and colleagues started to really get into it. Bobby's friends, of course, needed no encouragement. They were thoroughly enjoying the mess that Bobby had bestowed upon Mel. But now, even some of Mel's staunchest supporters were laughing at her messy demise.

Ooh . . . Bobby! So, help me . . . I will have my day of revenge. I can't believe this. Even Mary Ellen and Suzanne are cheering you on. OOH!

Mel's eyes were smoldering. Bobby's had a touch of mischief in his. Mel's hands were on her hips in a show of defiance. Bobby's arms were folded across his chest in a look of nonchalance. Finally, Mel spoke.

"Well, have you had enough, Bobby," she practically spit out those six words. "Can we call it quits, now?" She said this in a pleading tone. Mel saw those three large pots filled with gooey mess just like everyone else did. And she wasn't looking forward to having them dumped on her.

"Sure," Bobby replied.

But Mel's look of relief turned to one of anguish when Bobby added, "just as soon as I've finished using those other three messy dishes on you. HA!"

"But Bobby, surely you have wrecked enough . . ."

But Bobby shut her up with one hand as he pushed Mel back into that slop-covered chair and quickly upturned the big pot of chocolate pudding over her head. And Mel couldn't help herself. She looked up at the wrong time, and took all that sloppy, brown gunge directly in her face.

"Glup, pttp, pttf, gopf, fuh, fuh, fuc . . . shit, fuck. Pttp, pttf. FUCK!"

Shit! Fuck! Bobby . . . I am . . .

When Bobby finished pouring that big stockpot of chocolate pudding over his friend, Mel looked like a muck monster that had just come out of the Black Lagoon. Her entire head now carried an even deeper level of chocolate gunge. Her shoulders were, also, covered in that sloppy glop. And, now her boobs were completely saturated with that chocolate slop as well. And Mel was so, SO, pissed.

"You fucking bastard," Mel's voice was so low, it sounded like death. That tone of doom sent a chill down Bobby's spine. But he wasn't finished yet. Not by a long shot.

As all that mucky chocolate descended upon Mel's head, Bobby and most of the audience were laughing. Mel was not!

Oh, you think that was so funny, don't you? Well, you just wait. You just wait until it's MY turn. Then we'll see who's laughing. HA!

Now it was time for the second pot of mess, the one with ten liters of chocolate cake batter. And from the look on Bobby's face, everyone in the audience knew he was going to enjoy dumping it on his friend.

As Bobby lifted that big pot of chocolate cake batter, Mel crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest.

Go ahead buddy boy. Bring it on. Just remember, one of these days, it will be MY turn. Ha!

"Go ahead, Bobby. Go ahead and do it. Do your best. But one of these days, I will win the bet. And then we'll see who will be laughing last."

Then, Mel tilted her head back and thrust out her chest, so that Bobby would have a good target. And he did!

For the next forty-five seconds, Bobby took his time pouring that messy cake batter over Mel. He started with her face, and after he had completely covered her head, he worked his way down to her boobs. Continuing south, Bobby worked that chocolate goo onto Mel's tits, then her stomach and finally that magical juncture where a woman's legs come together. When he was finished, Bobby had managed to cover just about every square inch of Mel's body.

But she was no longer frowning. Mel actually had a smile on her muck-covered face.

"Finish it, Bobby! Finish it," Mel said with a provocative look on her messy face as she seductively licked her chocolate-covered lips. Then, before he knew what she was going to do, Mel reached up and pulled her chocolate-soaked lingerie over her head, leaving her in nothing but a pair of chocolate-stained panties.

And then she ran her hands over her chocolate-soaked boobs feeling her rock-hard nipples get ever harder.

With a glint in his eyes, Bobby replied, "your wish is my command, Mel!" And with that, Bobby picked up the huge 5-gallon bucket of Hershey's chocolate syrup and started pouring it over her head.

Once again, Mel looked up and took all that chocolate goo on her face. And Bobby took his time.

As he drenched Mel with chocolate syrup, everyone in the captive audience started chanting, "More, more, more!" So, he kept pouring more. Ha!

This time, it took Bobby a full two minutes to finish that pour. But when he was done, Mel was completely covered in chocolate slime. And she was so hot. HA!

But Mel was about to get hotter!

Wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of panties and a lot of chocolate, Mel got down on her knees in all the gooey chocolate that covered the floor. Then she started scooping up the brown muck and smeared it over her face. As everyone looked on in amazement, Mel started slathering that gunge on her tits. And then she started playing with them.

"Hey, Bobby," Mel said with a seductive look plastered all over her chocolate-covered face, "It would be a shame to waste all this wonderful muck. And she looked down at the chocolate sludge that covered the floor. "Why don't you help me fill this bucket, then you can pour it over my head again."

"Sure," Bobby said with a big grin plastered on his face. Then he got two big scoops and helped Mel as she started scooping up that brown muck and putting it into the bigger bucket. It took the two friends a few minutes but soon, that bucket was filled with a mixture of chocolate pudding, chocolate cake batter and chocolate syrup.

Mel looked mischievously at her best friend. Then she winked. And without further ado, Bobby started pouring that bucket of muck all over his best friend. And as that sloppy muck rolled off Mel's face and onto her boobs, she started massaging that grimy slop all over her tits. As her nipples got harder, Mel started to moan.

It took Bobby a full minute to finish pouring that brown slop over Mel. And she got even more excited with each drop of muck that he poured on her. Finally, it was over. And Mel, who was so totally covered in messy slop looked up at Bobby and silently whispered, "thank you."

Then Mel got up, bowed to the watchful audience, took Bobby's hand, and with her best friend in tow, she left the room, walking very carefully through all that goo.