Wrath
I AM NOT WRATHFUL, HOW DARE YOU FOR QUESTIONING THAT![1] I apologize for yelling, but it was the quickest way for me to explain what wrath was to the lay person. Although everyone who reads this is smart, so you knew what wrath was already and now we’re just all upset about the time we’ve wasted over defining wrath!
Wrath is not something I have experienced with much regularity. It may have something to do with being an emotional robot or it may have to do with my bottling up of emotions waiting for the cork to pop in the form of stomach ulcers. One day however the cork popped in a more “I want to punch my friend in the face” kind of way. I wanted to punch my friend in the face but what actually happened was I punched the grocery store fresh steak that was in his hand. For the record, I was aiming for the face. I only missed by 2 and a half feet.
I probably should have started at the beginning and explain why I was so mad.[2] I think I skipped that part because it makes me look irrational, irritable, and insane. It all started when I was hanging out with two of my friends, probably playing video games and drinking chocolate milk,[3] when my mom came home with the groceries. “Let’s go help bring stuff in,” I said. “OK!” said one friend. “Nope” said the other. The rage started to build. The good friend and I went out to the car to help my mother and grabbed a few bags. The bad friend came out and started talking to my mother which means now she’s not doing any work. Rage building! We got all the groceries inside and put away when the bad friend picked up a steak[4] that was thawing on the counter and invited himself over for dinner:
::insert the typed out version of what punching a steak sounds like::
I may have overreacted. That’s wrath for you. Once every 17 years I’m going to flip out and punch my future dinner. On a positive note, once every 17 years my dinner is going to be nice and tender.
As a a neat little wrap up (or should I say “wrath up[5]”) we have gotten over the “beating the meat” situation. Not all parties agreed on calling it that. The bad friend was and is my best friend although I have not talked to the good friend in years…which may make me the bad friend…which REALLY PISSES ME OFF!
