As a first semester Freshman, I had absolutely no social standing. This meant that I had not established any solid new friendships.

My roommate, who was also a first semester Freshman, and I shared the suite with two Sophomores. The one Sophomore was into the hippy life style and spent most of his days living in a tee pee in the woods with his girlfriend so he was seldom around. Unfortunately, our other suite mate was the problem and he was always around.

As a Freshman, my suite mate had been a member of a dorm gang. While not officially a gang in the sense of a street gang, they and their antic were, none the less, a force to be reckoned with. Their behavior was so bad that the college made a conscience decision to split them up and move them into different dorms. In short, they were a bunch of punks from Detroit.

Now, my suite mate carried that same attitude over into his Sophomore year. And since my room mate and I were new to the campus, we were prime targets for his sadistic actions.

Every now and then, he would assemble the old gang for the sole purpose of terrorizing us. They would come waltzing into our room, grab us and give us swirlies. (sticking our heads in the toilet and flushing it.)

Just by their sheer numbers, we were deemed helpless. The best we could do was to be passive victims. Any attempt at resistance would only add to their gratification.

As fate would have it, one week into my second semester, I received notice from my National Guard unit that I was being sent to basic training. And, since I would not be able to finish the semester, I made preparations to leave school.

The very day that I was leaving school, my suite mate, the terrorist, left for Detroit for the weekend. And since I had not told him of my departure from school, I held the element of surprise.

Armed with a can of shaving cream and a tube of tooth paste, I sought my revenge. First to his closet where I filled his freshly laundered shirt pockets with shaving cream then to his pants and shoes with the tooth paste. Next, I short sheeted his bed and sprinkled it with salt. Finally, I peed on his tooth brush.

I could have done worse things to him but I just wanted him to be the helpless victim for a change. I know it was juvenile behavior on my part but it sure felt good. And since he was at the end of a two year auto mechanics program, I was pretty sure I would not be seeing him again in the fall.

When the terrorist returned to his room on Sunday night, he went into a rage. My old room mate had made a point in not being around as he did not wish to be the focus of his anger.

However, a friend of mine from high school, who was living on the same floor with me, just happened to be around for the discovery. He said that it was quite humorous to see the tirades and even went on to point out the obvious to him; revenge is sweet.

All of this was reported to me when I was home on leave eight weeks later. And so, to give the knife a twist so to speak, I asked my high school friend to tell Mr. Terrorist about peeing on his tooth brush. This he did with much delight as he observed another tirade.

To this day, I smile about the event. And while I suppose that it is possible that I will run into him again some day, I find it highly unlikely.