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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
What happened: My dad was completely bitching me out while we were in the car, so I just finally chose to ignore him. I am in gymnastics so we were on our way to get my leotard, and when we got there, my dad, being the vengeful jerk that he is, held up the leotard that I had picked out and said to the 18 year old stick dancer, "my daughter is getting kind of tubby, is there a dressing room where she can try this on?" And at this point he is holding up one that is the largest size he can find.
What I said: Nothing! I was horrified!!
What I SHOULD have said: Hey, do you know where the old folks home is? I have to drop my dad off. Oh, and the dentist, he needs to get new dentures.
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!