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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
From Lil' Baggy:
What happened: I started hangin out with a guy named Willy down the street from me. He was two years older and it was the week of graduation. He had been hangin out with me all week after school and on the actual day of graduation I wanted to hang with him again. So I called and I was sittin on the back of his truck tellin him to come outside. And when he didnt I called again and his girlfriend answered the phone and came outside herself and went off on me about talking to Will. She said 'He's not allowed to talk to girls so I think you should erase his number from your phone and memory and get the f**k off of his truck before i step off this porch and give you a reason to!' Then she confronted me in the hall at school about it the next Monday and said all the same stuff about me not talking to him.
What I said: 'Ok' and walked away
What I SHOULD have said: 'Why do you tell HIM not to talk to me because last time I checked, YOU didnt tell me who I could and could NOT talk to. I always thought he was a big boy with his own mind and what went through his mind to go out with YOU is a mystery to me. By the way, he talks to a LOT of other girls. DEAL WITH IT because he is my neighbor and YOU CANT CHANGE THAT!' God I shoulda smacked her!
The French call it l'esprit d'escalier, "the wit of the staircase," those biting ripostes that are thought of just seconds too late, on the way out of the room-or even, to tell the truth, days later. It's happened to you: you've suddenly thought of just what would put your foe in his or her place, but past the time when the arrow could sting its victim. You've stewed in your own juice ever since, and the chance for singeing repartee is gone forever.
Or is it?
Dorothy Parker or Oscar Wilde may have had the rapier wit to tweak their tormentors on the spot, but for the rest of us, we offer the Internet's only L'esprit d'escalier web site!