Tagged: argh

Rage Against the Machine

Pak shet ka. Harumph. Bakbakan na itey

I kept a straight face while verbal diarrhea oozed out of your mouth.  The crap you were saying reeked. It smelled of condescension, ignorance and misplaced superiority.  It was like being in that disgusting crapper scene in Slumdog Millionaire.  Swimming in your shitty arguments and righteous assertions, I couldn’t believe the excrement that was coming out of your pie hole.


I kept a straight face.  I didn’t wince at the stench.  I didn’t flinch at your arrogance.  I didn’t dignify your comments by mudslinging.  So  on the outside, I would have made Lady Gaga proud.

Inside of me though, was a different story.

What I really wanted to do was squeeze the puss you call a brain out of your head through your ear like an irritating zit that won’t go away.

I wanted to throw a poisonous ninja star in between your eyes, mid crap-filled sentence.

Or  do Pai Mei’s five point palm exploding heart technique right when you least expected it.

I wanted to whapack you where it hurts with an arnis stick and just go Jet Li-slash-Chuck Norris on your sorry ass.

Anything to make your douche-bag discourse stop once and for all.


I wanted to pretty much, bash your face in while you blahblahed ala Peanuts teacher/adult


while  I kept a straight face.

I am sure it’s possible there’s a holding place for people like me, right by the gates of heaven.   They won’t let me in until I can let these angry thoughts go.   And until then, I’d have to watch all the fluffy, angelic, non-fattening fun from  outside the pearly gates.

I suppose, just as long as you’re not there with me in that holding area, it’ll be fine in the meantime, because man, seriously, when you open your mouth to speak, it’s like raising the lid of a septic tank filled with dead bodies in rigor mortis.

So please shut up.  I don’t think I can take any more of your misguided ideas of the situation, us and me.

And you would be doing all of us and the world a huge favor if you’d just shut your pie hole of uselessness.

grateful slice:  looking forward to the promise of forgiveness. And looking back at this post in the future and having no clue who it’s about.