Angry Tony

source: alamy.com


Whenever Tony was angry, he tended to ball up his hands into a fist, drops of spittle tended to come off the edges of his lips and he screamed so hard and so loud you'll think he was being tortured. At fifty, Tony hated just about everyone, and everything. He resented his family, hated his job, his co-workers, but especially his boss for being female. He was a male chauvinist and he was proud of it.

Tony was prone to anger. The doctors told him he'll die young if he continued on this part. Tony didn't care. He hated his life anyway. He had been amusing himself with a little porno on his computer when he had been interrupted by that bitch who called herself his boss. As if that wasn't bad enough, the bony thing had handed him a letter; she had fired his ass.

Tony hated his job, truth be told but that didn't mean he wanted to lose it- by getting fired not the less. That would have been okay, perhaps, if it had been a dude who fired him. But a chick? Nah, that was one hard pill to swallow.

Whenever Tony was angry, the blood flow to his brain stops, as a result he stopped thinking. The doctor had said it would kill him. They were wrong! Tony reached into his drawer and brought out a revolver. The revolver had eight-rounds of caliber. Tony, weapon in hand, fuming like a volcano, marched to his boss' office- rather, his former boss' office and empty the whole clip on her all the while laughing like an Hyena.

The doctors, they got it wrong!

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