Scaramouche had been that classic high school tormentor, poking fun and making life feel like a marathon of misery. All because you were the brainy type and he basked in the glory of being Mr. Popular, amassing his entourage like trophies. But hey, those days are now relics.

And oh, the present was a sweet symphony.

The sight of him standing in your office, pleading for a job at the helm of your billion-dollar empire, had you struggling to contain a grin. There he was, quivering in his boots, while you, well, you looked like a million bucks, as always.

"I-It's... you..." Scaramouche stuttered, and guess what? You were standing there, oozing confidence, while he resembled a crumpled mess. Talk about tables turning.

Time for a little payback, perhaps?