Unruly

Continued from “Unruly Duz It”

Whomever it was that said “He who angers you controls you” had to have been a schizophrenic control freak under a delusional high because that statement makes not one lick of damn sense to me. What kind of control could anyone possibly have over me if I’ve just smashed them in the back of the head with a brick or dropkicked them into a wall? I didn’t know, but I guess if someone pissed me off to the extent that I put my foot up that ass and it still left them feeling in control of me, then I couldn’t really take issue with that. I mean, if Sondra was of that mind, she definitely had my permission to give the ass-whuppin’ I was about to dole out whatever lip service she saw fit.

Sondra’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped in a shocked “O” as she caught sight of the chair leg in my hand too late to escape the wrath. She didn’t get to utter so much as one single word nor did she manage to swing at me before, during, or after she caught that chair leg beatdown in her front yard. I tagged her mouth and jaw methodically, intent on singlehandedly reversing any progress her orthodontist and over a year of adjustments might have made.

By the time her brain registered this was not a fight she could sway to her advantage and the flight instinct kicked in, I was wondering when she’d find the sense to retreat. As she struggled to get her legs to cooperate I stuck close, beating her upside her head, arms, and upper back all the way from the small strip of lawn between the street and sidewalk at the right corner of her lawn where she began to turn tail—up her yard, her front steps, and back into her house.

When she disappeared inside, I leaped off the porch and was walking to the car when I heard the screen door slam open behind me. I whipped around and dipped back and to the side just in time to dodge her sister who commenced swinging—windmill style—toward my face. Read more >

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