Oh What a Tangled Web We Weave: A Lost Bet, Indeed!


"Shit. How did I get myself in this mess," Janice said to herself as she sat down in the middle of the employees dining room. All the tables had been moved to one side, clearing a space for the former Employee of the Month for June 2022. A green plastic chair had been brought in specifically for Janice to sit in as she received her punishment. And the punishment would see Janice's beautiful dress ruined, her impeccable make-up trashed, and her $200 hairdo destroyed. Janice had made a rash bet with Phil, and she lost. Now, Janice's day of reconning had arrived. Phil was going to trash Janice with twelve chocolate pies, a huge bowl of chocolate pudding over her head, and to finish her off, with 30 pounds of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. And this was all because Janice's Philadelphia Eagles had lost the Super Bowl to the Kansas City Chiefs. And they didn't have showers where Janice worked.

Fuck. I can't believe this is happening to me. How could they have lost. This was supposed to be the Eagles year. Jalen Hurts came back from his injury and was just as good as before. Hell, we were leading at halftime. The Eagles looked so great in the first half. WHY? What happened? How did they fall apart?

"What was that, Janet?" Phil asked in a smug tone of voice. "What were you saying to me?"

"Shit," Janet replied, rather snippily. "Just get on with it."

At least they let me do it at the end of the day. My hair is going to be ruined. It's a good thing I brought a change of clothing, but my car is still going to get fucked up.

"Well, Janice, are you ready for your comeuppance?"

"For my WHAT?" Janice said behind a bewildered look. "What are you talking about, Phil?"

"I told you my Chiefs would win. But noooooo, you wouldn't listen. You were so sure of yourself. You just had to make the bet, didn't you."

"Well, you can just kiss my ever-lovin' ass, Phil." And with that, Janice stuck out her tongue.

"You won, I lost," Janice continued after a brief pause, "Do your best. HA! Just you remember, I trashed you pretty good last month."

"Oh, I do. I DO," Phil said behind a haughty sneer. "Believe me, Janice, I do. And that's what will make this all the sweeter."

As three dozen of Janice's co-workers stood at the edges of the room, waiting silently for Phil to get his messy revenge on the beautiful and well-endowed brunette, mixed emotions ran the gauntlet, in regard to Janice Simons. There was no middle ground. You either loved her or you hated her. With an infectious smile and quick wit about her, Janice's legions of followers would have charged the flames of hell with nothing but a bucket of sand. But she had a mean streak and those who befell her wrath usually got the short end of the stick. They were the ones who were anxiously awaiting Phil Montgomery's messy assault upon their coworker.

You're enjoying this . . . aren't you, you smug bastard.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Phil?"

"Enjoying it. Enjoying it, hmm, let's see," Phil stood there with one hand cupping his chin while looking skyward, as if pondering life's mysteries.

"Yes . . . yes. Yes, I do believe I am enjoying it," Phil said with a sideways wink. "I am enjoying it, immensely."

"Fuck you, Phil," Janice said with a deadpan look on her face.

"No . . . No, I believe the correct phrase would be, 'fuck you, Janice.' You are the one who is going to get fucked up."

Now, as Janice looked at that large three-tiered cart, loaded down with all sorts of messy foods, her chin dropped as a visible shudder ran through her body.

Oh fuck. I am so in for it.

While all their co-workers watched, Phil made quite a show as he wheeled out that cart full of chocolate pies along with a large bowl filled with several gallons of chocolate pudding. In addition, there was a very large stock pot that was full to the brim with the contents of four seven-and-a-half pound jugs of Hershey's chocolate syrup. That is 30 pounds of chocolate; dark brown, almost black-looking, sticky chocolate slime. And everyone knew where that mess was going to wind up. Ha!

"Janice," Phil said with a mischievous grin, as he picked up the first pie, "are you ready for your . . . just desserts . . . ha, pun intended."

The evil look Janice gave him would have shriveled a grape into a raisin in a split second. It would have curdled milk even before it hit the stomach. The look Janice gave Phil would have made a Marine drill sergeant proud.

"Just get on with it, you . . . fucking bastard."

"Oh, alright," Phil replied while shrugging his shoulders. "If that's the way you want it . . ."

SPLATTT!

And it started! As Phil slammed that first pie into Janice's pretty face, it hit with what sounded like a high-powered rifle going off. Brown and white muck splattered everywhere. The pie, two full inches of the finest chocolate pudding, with a healthy layer of whipped cream on top, completely inundated Janice's face. While white foam slathered up her forehead and covered half of Janice's scalp leaving her new hairdo in ruins, brown goo completely ruined the just-right make-up that Janice had applied that morning. As the chocolate muck slowly made its way off Janice's chin and splattered onto her chest, Janice's beautiful lavender and white, off the shoulder dress caught the mess where her magnificent breasts jutted out.

To say Janice was a mess would have been a misnomer. Her own mamma wouldn't have recognized her.

Shit! Janice thought as she felt the weight of all that muck on her face and in her hair. There goes $200 down the drain

While half of the room's occupants gasped in shock, the other half shouted in joy as they gave a thunderous round of applause.

As she lowered her head, knowing this was only the beginning, Janice mumbled, "you fucking bastard!"

Shit! I have to take eleven more of those pies . . . and then . . . Oh, fuck me. What have I gotten myself into.

Phil stood off to the side, watching the mess he had made of Janice's head. And he was loving it. As he laughed, Phil walked over to Janice and stuck a finger into the slimy chocolate goo that covered her face. Tasting it, he said, "Wow Janice, you taste really good."

"Bite me, Phil," Janice said with a look of anger on her face. "You just go and fuck yourself. You hear me!"

"No, I don't think so, Janice. I'd rather do this."

And then Phil slammed another of those gooey chocolate pies into Janice's face. With another resounding splat more chocolate goo and whipped cream added to the messy muck that already coated Janice's face. But this time, Phil slathered the remnants of the second pie over the top and down the back of Janice's head, completely ruining the rest of her $200 hairdo, she had gotten just that morning.

"Oh, that's just great, you fuckin' bastard. If I ever . . ."

SPLATTT!

But Phil interrupted her impromptu tirade with another pie to the face. This time, he let go of the pie tin and left it hanging on Janice's face, as further embarrassment.

Humiliated, Janice slapped the plate and remnants of the crust away from her face.

SHIT!

Now, as Janice settled back in her seat, with chocolate goo literally running down her face and onto her boobs, Phil quietly slithered behind her, while holding two pies, one in each hand.

"Hey Janice, I am so sorry. I have been remiss. You must be hungry," Phil's voice from behind her, startled Janice.

"What? No . . . no, I'm not hungry. What are you talking about?" Janice said as she desperately tried to look over her shoulder. "I'm not . . . oh you Sorry son-of-a-bitch. Don't you DARE!"

"I think you need a sandwich, Janice."

"No . . . no . . . No, I don't . . . you . . . bast . . ."

SPA-LATTT!!!

"A Pie Sandwich!"

And with a resounding splat, Phil slapped a pie onto each side of Janice's face. This time he ground the mess in really good.

Since these pies were straight chocolate pudding, with NO whipped cream, they made an even bigger mess of Janice's face. In fact, all of her face was now covered with dark brown goo. It looked like a muck bomb had gone off over Janice. Her entire head was covered with brown slop. And she was seriously pissed.

Shit! . . . Fuck! . . . Ooh . . .

"You Fucking Asshole. If I ever . . ."

SPLATT!!

But Phil was having too much fun to let a simple thing like Janice's anger deter him. So, he slapped a sixth pie into her pretty face.

"That's six, Janice. Six down, and only half a dozen to go. Are you having fun, Janice," Phil said with a sardonic grin. "I know I am."

"Ooh . . . you can take your fucking fun and shove it right up your ass."

But Phil just grinned and responded by plopping a big fat chocolate pudding pie down on top of Janice's head. With a loud splat, chocolate goo flew everywhere.

Shit. That's just great. How much more of this . . .

Now, however, Phil took his messy assault one step further. Hefting a chocolate pie that was almost overflowing with chocolate pudding, he pulled out the top of Janice's dress and slapped the messy muck directly on her left breast. Then he did the same to her right one. Janice squealed, when the cold muck hit her more than ample boobs, and stood up.

Oh shit. Not my tits, too. You son-of-a-bitch. I will . . .

"You son-of-a-fucking-bitch. I will kill you for this."

SLAPPP!!!

Having stood up and then bent over, Janice presented the perfect opportunity for Phil. And with a loud slap, he slammed a gooey chocolate cream pie onto Janice's very fine derriere.

"OUCH!" screamed Janice as Phil's impact was not very gentle. As that brown and white muck splattered all over her ass and down her legs, Janice started rubbing the area to lesson the sting.

"YOU Son-of-a-bitch! That hurt."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Janice," Phil said in a not-very-repentant tone. He remembered times that Janice had not been so gentle with him.

"Yeah, I just BET you are, you fuckin' bast . . ."

But Phil cut her temper tantrum short with another pie to the face. And with another round of messy chocolate goo in her eyes, Janice was not able to see what Phil was doing with the twelfth and final pie until she felt him lift the hem of her dress up. But she definitely heard and felt the slapping sound as Phil ground that pie into the front of her most private parts.

"Oh you fucking bastard . . . I am going to . . . I am so going to . . . to get you. You just wait and see. One of these days, it will be MY turn."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Phil responded. "Like you haven't already done worse to me."

With the end of round one, the twelve messy chocolate pies to Janice's face, and other parts of her body, Phil stood back to admire his artistry. Janice was a complete mess, from the top of her head almost to the bottom of her ruined dress. It would get worse. Ha!

With Janice standing, since her butt was still hurting from Phil's stinging pie slap, Phil was forced to inflict his next round of humiliation while standing on a stepladder.

"What are you doing now, Phil . . . oh Shit!"

Janice had just seen the huge pot that Phil was slowly lifting over her head. She knew what was in it, Janice just didn't know it was going to be that much. While Phil was preparing everything, Janice had watched him empty the contents of not one, not two, but three large cans of chocolate pudding in that pot. These were the industrial, or restaurant-sized cans of pudding. Now, Janice could see the brown slop sloshing over the sides of the pot as it was overflowing. And since Phil had stirred the pudding with a large spoon, it had a consistency that made the pudding very pourable. And as Janice looked, first at that giant bowl of mess, then at Phil's leering face, she said, "You fucking ass . . ."

Which was as far as Janice got before Phil turned that pot over and let that dark brown slop fall all over Janice's head and then her face as she looked up to take the mess all down her front. As that deluge of messy muck hit her, first on the head, then her face, and finally over her magnificent breasts, Janice felt a sense of absolute rage overcome her. But it would get far worse.

As Phil emptied the contents of three 112-oz. cans of chocolate pudding over her head, Janice became transformed into a muck-monster. And as that chocolate torrent flowed off her face it hit the formerly white décolleté of what had been a beautiful dress when she started the day. The dress Janice had worn, not suspecting how her day would end, was made to enhance or rather show off her more than ample boobs, but without shoulder straps, it could not endure the mucky onslaught from twenty-one pounds of thick, creamy, chocolate pudding.

Feeling her dress start to fall under the onslaught of all that mucky brown mess, Janice made a feeble try to catch her dress in time. She failed. And with that, Janice's dress came sliding down her body before she was finally able to stop its plummet at her hips. Everyone had always suspected that Janice did not wear a bra. Now they knew she did not wear a bra.

A collective gasp rose from the crowd of onlookers, even those who were not among Janice's followers. Her humiliation complete, Janice stood there, hopelessly looking around as she tried to retain some dignity. Even Phil looked a little subdued. But only for a moment.

"YOU FUCKING DOUSHBAG. Look at me. Look at what you've done," Janet screamed at the little man from South Philadelphia.

As Janice continued berating her coworker, what sympathy she might have garnered from the crowd of onlookers went out the window.

As her tirade continued, looks of anger started to cross the faces of even her long list of supporters. And finally, as her billows of pent-up rage ran out of steam, Phil seemed to stand even taller than before. And everyone sensed what was to come next. Even Janice.

Shit. That's just great. Me and my big mouth.

And now, Phil stepped over to a counter, and on the floor, there was a big, really big, 20-quart stockpot. It was one of those industrial-sized pots used for boiling large quantities of water for spaghetti and other kinds of pasta. But instead of containing water this pot was filled with Hershey's chocolate syrup. As Phil struggled to lift that pot, and then climb the miniature ladder, everyone knew what was coming next.

Janice now grew silent, almost pensive. As she stared at Phil, standing on the ladder, and struggling to lift that pot of dark brown, almost black, liquid chocolate over her head, she said nothing. Possibly, Janice knew that she had brought this upon herself. Perhaps she finally realized that she was getting what she deserved. Even so, Janice held her head high, chin up, face forward, ready to take what was to come next.

And then, Phil started the pour. For the next ninety seconds, Phil poured that messy chocolate slime all over Janice. As it hit her face and then her unadorned chest, Janice gasped at the coldness. As that slimy goo descended upon Janice and slowly but surely covered her entire body, she lost the battle to maintain her fragile hold on the muck-covered dress and it fell to the ground in a sodden, goo-covered, heap by her ankles. And while many of those watching had long known Janice did not wear a bra and had that realization come to light, they had only surmised that she might not wear any underwear either. Now, they knew for sure. When Phil finally finished his messy pour, ninety-one seconds later, Janice stood there, clad in nothing but her high heels and, of course, all that messy chocolate which Phil had delivered. She was an utter wreck.

As black slime flowed down and off Janice's goo-drenched body, Phil stepped down off the ladder. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Janice knew she had been beaten. So did everyone else.

"Well, Phil . . . you won. I lost. Everyone knows that. I deserved this. But . . ."

"But what, Janice," Phil came back, rather somber himself. "What do you have to say?"

"Nothing, I guess," Janice replied as she rubbed black-colored slime from her eyes so she could see, and dug out dark gunge from her ears so she could hear. Taking her hands, Janice smeared the slop that still covered her magnificent tits and even pushed away the slime that was still running down her stomach and into that magical juncture where her legs came together, to the sweet spot of a woman's essence. As Phil and everyone else watched, Janice slowly scooped away an enormous amount of chocolate from the area that so many crudely called her pussy. Then mustering what resolve she could find, Janice picked up her ruined dress and walked away.