Monday, November 20, 2006
FURY

So help me if I run into that BITCH again, I will tear her to shreds and dance on her fucking entrails. I've never been so pissed off in my life. I can't help but feel that nothing would appease me more than to feel that woman's hot blood spill all over my hands and to feel her scrawny neck go limp in them.

She just wouldn't stop.

I really should've talked back. But there I was, I just sat there and took it. I mean, what the fuck, right? I was trying to avoid making a gruesome scene in a confined space, but she bloody insisted on harping and harping and harping. If I didn't have better control of myself, I would've done something remarkably stupid. I should've dared, I should have fucking dared her to commence with her threats. See if she had the guts, and if she did, I would've taken absolute pleasure in retaliating. With words. Maybe even with physical action. And definitely some help from the judicial system. I know people, bitch.

See this is how it went down. I was in a jeepney and the air was blowing my hair around and accidentally brushed against this woman's face. Irritably, she orders me to hold my hair down, and even has the nerve to grab a clump of my hair to stuff away. Fine, it was partly my fault. But if she had asked politely and didn't have the fucking nerve to touch me, I wouldn't have put on such a surly face. She notices and commences with a series of biting remarks about how rude it is to inconvenience people with one's hair and how long flowing hair in TV is not the same in real life. All this time, I'm thinking, what the FUCK crawled up your ass and died? I try my best to keep calm and ignore her, maybe if I ignored her long enough, she'd shut up. She doesn't. Out of spite, I don't pay much attention to gripping my hair, and some of it brushed against her again. Thus subjecting to me to more abuse. She takes this a step further by asking me, "Gusto mo bang sabunutan kita? Kasi gagawin ko! May gunting ako dito. Gusto mong gupitan kita?"

And there I sat, still quiet. At this point my anger was taking a physical manifestation. My hands were shaking and it was all I could do from lunging at her and ripping out her throat. I was so close to going over the edge and spewing a torrent of profanities upon her person. I should have fucking DARED her to try. And I imagine how divine it would have been to retaliate. I have my pepper spray. I have my nails. It would have been so worth a mark on my permanent record just to break her.

But then I didn't. The old bag was lucky. She was lucky, becuse it's the kind of abuse that she doles out that drives people over the edge. And I was so very, very close to it.

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Thus spake Irish || 1:06 PM || 0 comments