Revenge by Baldbearded

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Jonathan ran his hand over his jaw, feeling the roughness of his growing beard. It wasn’t much yet, just a shadow of the impressive auburn beard he once had—a beard that had reached down to his waist, a part of him that he’d taken years to grow and maintain. The memory of shaving it off still stung. The way his boss had casually "suggested" he clean up for work, only to mock him afterward, had left him feeling stripped bare, as if his identity had been sheared away along with his beard. Now, each bristly hair growing back was like a quiet act of defiance, a promise to himself to never let someone have that kind of power over him again.

When the company announced a weekend retreat at a lakeside resort, Jonathan’s mind was already churning. He’d observed his boss carefully over the years, and he had noticed something about him that was equally concealed—a little too carefully, in fact. His boss’s hair, styled just right, never shifted even on windy days. As Jonathan previously suspected his boss wore a toupee, hidden behind a layer of self-confidence and arrogance that made him think no one would notice.

As the team gathered for the retreat, the usual rounds of icebreakers and team-building exercises began. But Jonathan kept his eye on the itinerary. When he saw "Group Fishing Trip" on the schedule for the next afternoon, he knew this was his chance. All he needed was the right timing, and he’d be able to even the score in a way his boss would never forget.

The next day, the boat was ready at the dock. The company had rented a spacious fishing boat, and the team gathered on board, excitedly preparing their rods and taking their places along the railings. Jonathan chose a spot on the upper deck, directly above his boss, who was stationed below, boasting to anyone who would listen about his so-called fishing expertise.

As they set out onto the lake, the boat’s engine hummed, creating ripples in the water behind them. The sun was high, casting a gleam over the waves, and everyone was in high spirits. Jonathan’s boss was particularly animated, barking out pointers to anyone who asked—and some who didn’t. Jonathan rolled his eyes, positioning himself so that he could cast his line at just the right angle.

He let the line down slowly, adjusting it with each subtle flick of his wrist until the hook was hovering just above his boss’s head. He took a deep breath, his pulse racing as he waited for the right moment. His boss was still engrossed in conversation, oblivious to the fishing line dangling above him. Then, Jonathan felt it—a light catch on the hook. The line had snagged something soft and unnatural. He gave a small, careful tug, and to his satisfaction, the hook caught on the edge of the toupee.

In one swift motion, he gave the line a sharp yank, and the toupee came free with a loud rip, flying through the air and into the lake with a splash. For a moment, everyone on board froze, unsure of what they’d just seen. His boss stood stock-still, his face a mask of shock as his hand went instinctively to his head, where his carefully hidden bald scalp was now fully exposed, gleaming under the midday sun.

The silence only lasted a second before the laughter erupted. The entire team was wide-eyed with shock, some stifling giggles, others openly laughing.

"Oh my god! His hair… it just flew off!" one of the younger employees managed to choke out, her laughter coming in gasps.

Jonathan struggled to keep a straight face as he worked his fishing rod, slowly reeling in the line. The toupee was still hooked, bobbing in the water like a soaked and sorry-looking fish. Each turn of the reel pulled it closer, the once-perfect hairpiece now heavy with lake water, dripping as he lifted it onto the deck. The sight of the sopping wet toupee dangling from Jonathan’s hook sent another wave of laughter through the group.

As Jonathan detached the toupee from the line, he held it up with a calm, almost polite expression. "I believe this belongs to you, sir," he said, extending it down to his boss.

His boss’s face had turned a deep shade of red. Desperately, he reached out to take it, but the toupee, waterlogged and slippery, slipped right through his fingers and landed back on the deck with a sad, wet splat. The boss stammered, scrambling to pick it up again, but each time he tried to place it back on his head, it slipped off, sending a fresh stream of water dripping down his face.

"Careful, boss," Jonathan said, not able to resist a sly smile, "you wouldn’t want it to go overboard again."

Jonathan’s boss, visibly flustered, tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. He kept fumbling with the soaked toupee, trying to blot it with a napkin someone handed him, but the lake water had ruined its shape, and no amount of smoothing or adjusting was going to bring it back to its former perfection.

"Here, boss," one of the interns called out, barely able to contain his laughter, "we can call it the one that got away."

The boat rocked gently on the waves as his boss finally gave up, clutching the sad, dripping hairpiece to his chest, and retreated to a corner of the boat, his red face turned away from the crowd. Jonathan watched with satisfaction as the team continued to chuckle, sharing quiet jokes and furtive glances. His boss had made Jonathan the target of ridicule when he’d forced him to shave his beard, stripping him of a piece of himself. Now, in front of everyone, his boss was exposed in a way he’d never be able to forget.

As the boat began its journey back to the dock, Jonathan leaned over the railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The quiet weight of satisfaction settled over him, and he knew that his boss would think twice before taking away someone else’s pride.

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