Chapter 9: The "Big Bang" Prank
Sheldon's furious internal monologue was a beautiful, chaotic thing. I could almost hear it from my apartment, a symphony of indignation and self-righteousness. He had been humiliated by our pranks, and now, with Paige working in his department, he was determined to get his revenge. He wasn't just a man; he was a human volcano of repressed fury and a meticulous plan.
His revenge wasn't a simple prank; it was a work of art. A complex, Rube Goldberg-esque contraption that was designed to humiliate Paige in front of the entire Caltech cafeteria. It was his masterpiece, his magnum opus of revenge.
I, with the help of my System, had a heads-up. The System, in its infinite wisdom, had a function that allowed me to get a sense of the plans of people within my 5-meter radius. I could feel Sheldon's plan, his every thought, his every move. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, a train wreck that was being meticulously constructed by a mad genius.
"He's going to use a series of pulleys, levers, and magnets to spray you with a fine mist of water when you walk into the cafeteria," I said, a small, knowing smile on my face. We were sitting in my apartment, going over the details of Sheldon's plan, a plan that he had, in his infinite hubris, shared with Leonard.
Paige, who was sitting next to me, just stared at me, a blank look on her face. "A fine mist of water? That's it? I thought he'd be more creative than that. I thought he'd at least use a pie. Or a bucket of slime. Or a bucket of angry bees. A fine mist of water is just… sad."
"He's a man of science," I said with a grin. "He has to use a scientific method. A pie is too chaotic. A fine mist of water is a perfect, scientific, and most importantly, a humiliating method. It's an act of passive-aggressive, scientific revenge. It's his thing."
"So, what do we do?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Do we just let him do it? Do we just let him have his moment of glory? Do we let him have his tiny, insignificant victory?"
"We could," I said, a small, conspiratorial whisper. "But that would be too easy. We're going to let him have his moment of glory, and then we're going to watch it all come crashing down."
The day of the prank was a masterpiece of suspense. Sheldon, a look of profound self-satisfaction on his face, was hovering near the cafeteria, a small, remote-controlled device in his hand. He was a scientist, a genius, a master of his domain. He was going to get his revenge. The world was his stage, and he was the star of the show.
Paige and I walked into the cafeteria, and with a single, knowing glance, we went to the opposite side of the room. Sheldon, a look of confusion on his face, looked at us, then at his device, then at his contraption. He had a moment of pure, unadulterated panic. He had built the contraption to be triggered by a sensor, which was placed near the entrance of the cafeteria. But with us on the other side of the room, he couldn't get a clear shot. He had to move, but he was too proud to do so. He was trapped. By his own genius.
He, in a moment of pure, unadulterated fury, pressed the button on his remote. The contraption, a beautiful, chaotic series of pulleys, levers, and magnets, started to go off. But instead of spraying Paige with water, the contraption, in a beautiful display of cosmic justice, collapsed on top of Sheldon, spraying him with a fine mist of water. The final result was a small puff of smoke and a sad-looking balloon that slowly deflated and hit him on the head.
Sheldon, covered in water and a series of broken scientific instruments, let out a small, pained wail. The cafeteria, a moment ago silent, erupted in laughter.
I looked at Paige, a wide, triumphant grin on my face. "I think we just got our revenge," I said. "And we didn't even have to lift a finger."
"I think we just got our revenge," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "And we didn't even have to lift a single, tiny, insignificant finger."
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