Go to What I SHOULD Have Said... main page
Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
What happened: When I was twelve years old, my mom decided to take me to the doctor to get my birthmark checked out (just a caution to make sure nothing was wrong). Mind you this birthmark is in a very private place and it had always been something I was self-conscious of. In the car with my mom and I on the way there were my older brother and sister. I was complaining about my birthmark a little bit and then out of no where my brother said "You know, no guy is going to like you because of that." The whole car went silent.
What I said: Nothing at all. I was mortified. He was the only male opinion of my birthmark that I had up until that point.
What I SHOULD have said: "Yeah maybe shallow, selfish, ignorant males such as yourself who I wouldn't want to be caught dead with anyway." (Sorry, my brother is a bit of an asshole).
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!