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December 12, 2007

Wednesday

You're so angry, you could just...

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After three strong pushes, the remaining florets floated to the surface.

"Unbelievable!" Ed griped.

Al stood in the doorway sampling innocent expressions. "Sorry."

"You're a grown man with a PhD."

"I thought it would flush."

"Toilets and garbage disposals aren't the same." He tossed the plunger aside and scooped up the cauliflower.

A sudden chuckle from Al instigated an eruption of curses from Ed.

"Any fool knows not to do this."

"Sorry."

"Why the hell are you laughing?"

"Well what else can I do?"

***

Al gobbled his vegetables at dinner the next night as if they were garden fresh.

Posted by: Jarrett at December 12, 2007 4:11 PM · Permalink

You're So Angry, You Could Just What?

““…just kill you!”

“What now?”

“Like you don’t know! You told me you were going to mow and help me straighten up for Saturday, and I know it was you that left the toilet seat up, though you’ll probably just blame the kids, and speaking of kids, you’re supposed to talk to Jake today, and we have no chocolate in the house!”

“Ah,” he said putting on his coat.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To buy chocolate, dear.”

“Can you pick up Midol too?”

“Oh, are you PMSing? I didn’t notice.” he grinned, ducking to avoid a flying shoe.

Posted by: Ree at December 12, 2007 4:20 PM · Permalink

He spoke. She stared at him. She smiled.

Her anger had been like boiling molasses running through her brain, coating every peaceful instinct and giving way to the Dark Thoughts. In her mind, the Guardians of Conduct had sprung up and struggled against the Dark Thoughts, retreating at Kindness and taking a final stand at Mercy. Armed with patience, she had fought alongside them. She had been so angry, she could have killed him with one bare hand. She had resisted.

But then he had said “Calm down.”

This, in her book, was the Divine go-ahead to finish him off.

Posted by: Meowbag at December 12, 2007 6:14 PM · Permalink

“Then her eyes rolled back into her head, and they bulged with every mad breath. She spoke an indecipherable tongue -- one that the likes of few mortals have ever heard or want to hear, less they be damned, and when she spoke it was like the wailing of the frost bitten December wind. From her innards dropped coals glowing red with fright, and her nails became as razors ready to slice through the flesh of any human. She became like the chupacabra: hungry for blood.”

“And that son is why you never want to get your mother angry.”

Posted by: Paul Cat at December 12, 2007 11:55 PM · Permalink