@jespah,
There's this novel I once read "A Covenant of Salt" by Martine Desjardins that, for me, so outlined the the fruitlessness and hubris of getting in that last word.
Spoiler Alert, in case you want to read the book yourself.
In it, the main character, a woman named Lily, has completely given her life over to being a recluse who literally makes salt her existence. She sniffs it, has halls carved out of salt, eats it, breaths it, lives it. She is as bitter, dry & dead/sterile inside as the salt. What in moderation gives spice and flavor to life is isolating and self absorbing in excess.
It isn't until nearer the end you learn she has been I think jilted or something, and her entire life as from then on been this elaborate plan to bring together the parties directly and indirectly involved to, I don't know, teach them a lesson? Get in the last word? "Show" them?
Thing is, when she gets to show one (or more than one, can't remember) of them her elaborate masterpiece of salt, the response is "um....ok"
In the end, she dies, and some of her servants are cleaning up the house, in order to close it up. 2 of her maids find a box of something like marzipan, which the woman never allowed herself, and one of them says "Oh sweets!" and they stuff their mouths.
That is literally the end of the book, and I sat there and though "huh?" It didn't make sense after all the bitterness and desiccation that went on. Later I realized that was exactly the point.
She was dead, after living a crappy life. The people she felt she needed to "show" had no idea what she was on about, and the world moved on.