Visa-free vengeance

This story was an unsuccessful flash fiction competition entry. I always enjoyed tales of those who had been victims of bullying enjoying the last laugh:

Fool that he was; he had left his credit card behind. Having only cash, he had found a bed and breakfast, a small, cosy, comfortable place run by a couple well past retirement age.
Eating breakfast, an argument was audible from the kitchen; the voice of the older man and a threatening voice. The older man said that they had paid far more for the work than had been quoted and could afford no more. The threatening voice said the work had taken longer than anticipated and there was still another £500 to be paid.

Finishing his breakfast, he gathered his things and left quietly. The disagreement was continuing. A white van stood at the gate, keys still in the ignition.

Quite what he was thinking, he was not sure, but thirty seconds later he found himself driving the van through the streets. He laughed, he had given no name at the bed and breakfast, no-one knew who he was. Staying in side streets to avoid traffic cameras (he had watched plenty of crime dramas), he found a patch of derelict land where he stopped the van, opened every door and walked away. It must have been half a mile before he reached a bus stop, from where he caught a bus to the city centre.

Teaching the bully a lesson meant a telephone call was needed. At a box in the high street, he dialled the mobile number that had been on the side of the van. He warned the man with the threatening voice that the man would find himself on the waste ground if there was any more trouble.

Eating lunch at a restaurant, he called a taxi for the airport. Taking his seat for the flight, he thought what fun it was to have no credit card.

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