... and indeed, one day I found the way.

The jet of hot water fell on my raised foot, then deformed the thick layer of foam. Steam emanated from the tub while my hand held three squares of caramel Milka. Although they would melt a little on my fingers before I finished them, it was ok: I would suck them. It was my moment; It was Christmas outside, but I disowned it and enjoyed my home-made pleasures as I reflected on the pending account I had with Ivan the Terrible. That thorn that I hadn't taken out in half a year, nor had I wanted to. The heat that I suffered in that hotel now kissed me and comforted me in the coldness of winter. Paradoxically, revenge is served cold and would comfort me even more. Alice Cooper's voice was tearing as it tried to pass through the plaintive phone's speakers: "... I ain't no angel, but I've never felt better...". He was damn right. Those words shattered certain tensors inside me. I wouldn't feel balanced again until some kind of divine justice was applied to that human being simulacrum.

Óscar and I had found a job in another hotel, after being fired from the previous one due to the incident of Ivan the Terrible. The lawsuit opened against us was closed soon, because Castro, the only existing witness, decided not to testify against us. It seems that even someone as impassive as him felt towards Ivan, at least, antipathy.

I'm writing a book about hate. An essay. It will sell. I have adopted an innovative perspective on it, which will make us see it in a different way. Ivan the Terrible had been so inspiring... After all, hatred is offering me a clear message for life. I have to close this episode before calculating the next courses; once the cargo is shipped, my hands will be released and I will continue my life.

Óscar and I have met up several times to discuss the plan. It is difficult to go anywhere at this time of the year, the street is crowded with people who succumb to the voracious capitalism represented by the fat and bearded man who travels the sky pulled by reindeers. Even so, I admit that I like the Christmas atmosphere. When it snows, the street looks almost like a cloying film stage shot in New York.

We already knew where Ivan lived. A rainy day in November we followed him as he left the hotel heading home. Now, in December, we had waited near his portal to go out and do the seemingly obligatory Christmas shopping. We assumed he would, since it was a Saturday afternoon just before Christmas week. We were right.

We were surprised at first of him being alone. Then we thought about it and found it natural. Even so, some purchases would have to be made. Even if they were for him. He walked towards the city center. Perfect, he went alone and on foot, revenge was being facilitated to us. We followed him at a prudent distance. We needed people to be present. There were some streets in particular that we could use very well. They were very busy, but they had many dark and narrow alleyways on a side.

-Get ready -I whispered to Oscar-. In that alley.

Óscar nodded and we accelerated the march. We stood each one aside from Ivan the Terrible and we grabbed him as if he were a friend of ours. With smiles ahead. Oscar raised Ivan's scarf to his mouth and stuck a good chunk in it. That mouth used to vomit orders and insults, now only articulated guttural moans. The people around us didn't suspect. Our attitude was spontaneous and the scandalous carols of commercial establishments masked his voice. We led him into the darkness of the alley.

To the end, where nothing could be seen.

We started undressing him and throwing his clothes into Oscar's backpack. As much as our victim resisted, we were two guys in their twenties who were regulars of the gym against a decrepit forty-year-old body with the shape of his sofa. We took off all the clothes from him. The snow settled on her bare skin.

-Bastards! You're gonna be screwed! Sons of bitches!

I smiled.

-The one who is going to be screwed is you. Damn son of the bitch -I answered-. You can't imagine how badly you treated me at the hotel. You deserve this and much more.

-Same here, you bastard -Óscar said.

He already had his cell phone out, ready to record. We drag Ivan back to the main street. He kept resisting, but his feet slipped with moisture. People started to click their Christmas bubble to observe the anti-Christmas scene. We pushed him towards a parked car and Óscar started recording. God, it was my moment of glory. Ivan was hurt by the crash, fell to the ground face up with all his nudity in sight. Of the people who passed, some laughed, others showed concern. Probably the latter would not be long in offering help, so we decided to put and end to it.

-Don't worry, gentlemen, it's a bachelor party! Our friend gets married tomorrow, Óscar explained.

A few seemed satisfied with the explanation, but others didn't. Ivan struggled to get up, but between the pain, the cold and the damp ground, it cost him a lot. Finally a man grabbed his arm and helped him up.

-It's time to go, I said.

We ran. Someone was throwing expletives at our backs, I could not tell if it was Ivan or another person.

The important thing is that the video would be uploaded that same night.

It was titled "Ivan the Not So Terrible" and two days later it had twenty thousand visits. It wasn't bad at all. The number of times I have played it... every time I do, I feel like I get paid the salary of those disastrous summer days when I was about to die (yes, I'm sure I was). It's fair that if I barely died by heat, Ivan the Terrible would honor his name and barely die with cold.

I started by saying that hatred and love are similar. Now I see it more clearly than ever. My hatred towards Ivan has derived, after being balanced by this incident, towards an intense love towards life. Funny thing, I even enjoyed that Christmas like never before. Although I did not need gifts. The best and only gift was made by Ivan the Not So Terrible, with the masterpiece of the short films titled in a homonymous way to him.