Still Angry

I was sitting at the dining room table when I suddenly realized I had been deep in thought for nearly half an hour. Apparently I was still very angry about my Jeep window, because I was thinking about all the horrible things I would do to the vandal if I ever found him. I needed to get rid of all this anger, but how?

The answer: a cake. An anger cake. Luckily, I am the sort of person that keeps cake mix and frosting handy in case of such an emergency. As I mixed up the batter, I thought of all the reasons I hate that person. I plotted ways to make his life miserable. I dreamed of ways to booby trap the Jeep with things like mustard gas and hypodermic needles filled with snake venom. As the cake baked and rose in the hot oven, I imagined all those thoughts and ideas growing and bubbling up inside my cake. Once out of the oven and cool, I decorated my cake with profanity. Unfortunately, the little Betty Crocker frosting tubes I had left from the last cake had dried up. I had to make due with sprinkles, but I think my message was still clear.

Fuck you, you filthy thief.


I hope you die of Plague.

Now I'm going to eat that cake. Piece by piece I will consume my own rage... Tasting it... Digesting it slowly in an acid bath, sucking out what little nutritive substance it contains. Then over the next few days, I will poop it out and flush it away, never to be seen again. Goodbye, rage.