How To Roast Someone To Shut Up

"Use your words Isabella , I want to hear that sweet voice of yours " His voice dripped with cold menace as his grip on my jaw tightened even more. My lips trembled under his harsh glare. I could barely manage to hold his gaze with my blurry teary ones . "I..I'm sorry A..Ace" I stuttered "You are always sorry, a pathetic cry baby is all you are ever going to be. " He sneered further tightening his grip on my shoulders. I couldn't stop an embarrassing tear that escaped my eyes at his words. "You are so pathetic, I will only hurt you more until you are nothing more than dust beneath my feet " My eyes widened when he inched closer , not knowing what to expect i shut my eyes tightly close . I stopped breathing when his breath fanned against my cheeks. When I opened my eyes he was gone. He used to be my crush and childhood best friend... But now he's my nightmare. He hates me, and he's vowed to make my life a living hell. Because I made a huge mistake. Staying alive when I should have died.

I loved eating cakes. My dad would bring me one every day after work, and my mom bought a full set of oven and baking tools, patiently learning how to bake them for me. I once thought I was the happiest little princess in the world until the day my parents divorced. The person who came to pick up my dad turned out to be the bakery owner. My mom turned to me, growling, "This is all your fault! If you hadn't asked for cakes every day, your dad never would've cheated!" She stretched out her hands, covered in burn scars, and screamed hysterically, "I slaved away making cakes for you, and these hands have never healed since. What did you do? You both think the stuff from outside is so much better!" She grabbed a baking sheet and smacked me hard with it. I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound. That night, she brought home a little girl. Ignoring the pain all over my body, I begged for her forgiveness. "Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't throw me away. I swear I'll never eat another cake!" She slapped me across the face, but that wasn't enough to quench her anger. She tossed me into the big oven. "I'm not your mom! You love cakes so much? Stay in there and reflect on what you've done! You and your worthless dad both deserve to die!" After she slammed the door and stormed out, the little girl skipped over to the oven, grinning smugly as she hit the switch. "From now on, your mom is gonna be mine!" The oven kicked on, and the temperature began to rise. I smiled bitterly. At least this way, my mom could finally be happy.

On my wedding day, my groom's sister, Nadia Lawson, wears an elaborate ball gown and comes on stage to snatch the emcee's microphone. Before all the guests, she arrogantly says to me, "Can't you see the princess is here? Why didn't you curtsy and greet me? You deserve to be punished! Get on your knees and prostrate yourself before me as an apology!" My expression sours at her insolence. I turn around only to see the indulgent expressions on her parents' faces. The groom, Bowen Lawson, says dotingly, "We spoiled Nad silly since she was a child. You are her sister-in-law now. Don't make things hard for her." I am so mad that I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The clown thinks she's a princess, asking me to kneel before her? Ridiculous.

I get cyberbullied by the elderly people in my community. Apparently, they've uploaded videos, claiming that my charity kitchen that sells one-dollar meals not only sells bad food, but I've also sold them at ridiculously high prices. During the first year of the kitchen's establishment, I've sunk 420 thousand dollars and given it my all in running the kitchen. But all I receive in return is the Internet's backlash on me, which calls me for being a vile person. So, I decided to go along with the public opinion by shutting down the kitchen entirely. Then, I transform the venue into a card room that costs ten dollars per hour. As soon as the notice is posted, the entire community goes nuts. The elderly people's children soon show up on my doorstep and beg me to reopen the kitchen.

While I'm enjoying a promotional set that I've ordered from a restaurant, my best friend sends me screenshots she has taken from someone's social media feed. "I just met a weird customer who's clearly impoverished but acts like she isn't. How can I make her realize that she has no right to be dining in such a fine establishment?" The screenshot's descriptions grow even more familiar. "One has to spend an average of two thousand dollars in this fine dining restaurant, and yet this broke loser has the nerve to order the cheapest promotional set instead! On top of that, she's shameless and pathetic enough to make me take a photo of her that makes her look very fancy! "Seriously, I want nothing more than to post that ugly and unedited photo of hers on my social media feed and pin it there, just so I can humiliate her to no end!" Someone in the comment section tells the floor captain of the restaurant to watch her behavior. "She's a customer at the end of the day; your restaurant's reputation will suffer from a blemish if things get out of hand. "You should know when to stop. After all, you're in the hospitality industry, so you shouldn't act too arrogantly." The original poster has the guts to respond to that comment. "I will never show respect to those who can't afford a 14-thousand-dollar meal! The fact that I have the balls to post the entire thing on my social media means I'm not scared of that peasant at all! What can she do to me anyway?"

It was my girlfriend's birthday. I took her to my family's newly opened restaurant for dinner. Since we were planning to have cake later, the two of us ordered a single set meal that included a pizza and a plate of pasta. Smiling, I handed the menu to the waiter. He took it with a fake smile. I heard him calling us paupers under his breath. I frowned. "What did you just say?" The waiter froze for a second. He then put on another fake smile. "I said I'll have your order ready shortly." I snorted and replied fluently in the same language he'd used. "You just called us paupers."