Let me tell you about the time when I became full of rage today.

Well, how shall we begin this quaint tale of mankind's uglier emotions, unfolding suddenly like an out of practice yoga participant on this second of two bitterly cold jours d'hiver?

Well I suppose it can begin with the grading of exams, the more difficult part having been left to two-thirds of our tidy trio by He-Who-Chose-First. I bear him no more ill will for this decision than I normally bear him, the quantity of which grows more substantial daily. Un joke!

In the course the mindless repetition brought about by such tedious activities, I came across two papers that were exactly identical. In fact, one seemed to be simply the typed version of the other, and they were turned in right next to one another. Furthermore, the written paper happened to be the paper of one of our brightest students. Further furthermore, the paper which was typed was of a student whose grade in the class is more than 10% less than that of our hero. In her facebook picture she can be seen kissing the cheek of none other than her apparent magnanimous geology-class helper. GET A CLUE, GEOLOGY STUDENT OF HIGH STANDING! YOUR LIFE COULD BE RUINED BY SUCH A JEZABEL! Do the students who thusly take their futures in their hands stop to think what a grave manner of sin they are committing? For it takes two willing parties for this sort of connivery, and my anger is fueled more by he who allows another to cheat from his work than that lazy and ignorant fool who cheateth by him, for his or her ignorance and subsequent failure of future life will be punishment enough.

What price, student, is your honor?
How large or small must the point value be before it is worth its weight in integrity?
May I borrow your work, says the corruptor, the "friend"?
"NAY!" sayeth the student of mighty righteousness, "I worked hard upon it, and thou shouldst complete it thine own damn self!"

That's really all you have to say. Any friend worth having will not sever the bonds of friendship over such a statement as outlined immediately above.

But lo, revenons à nos moutons. This was the first step toward the ever-spiralling emotions of rage.

Second in this toppling torrential tumid tower of terrible RAGE came when I, aware of how desperately I needed some cookies to cheer my darkening mood, opened the drawer wherein my Reynolds Wrap normally lies, only to discover that my ROOMMATES (DEMONS!) had USED ALL of my Reynolds WRAP! Alack! how many times had I used this wrap? But few! How many times had I assured my roommates that they were welcome to use my Reynolds Wrap? But NEVER. I had in fact my Clingwrap hidden as they seemed particularly inclined toward its use when they spied it newly bought among my grocery bags. GAH! But why buyest one her own box of Reynolds Wrap if not so that when she wishes to make cookies there the Reynolds Wrap lies, awaiting its purpose?? Had she but known that the Reynolds Wrap had been perniciously purloined she would have bought a new box the other day at the Stop N' Shop!

So what, may you ask, stopped me from flying into a most unstoppable rage, not unlike a hurricane of catagory 5 about which I recently learned from Dialated's hurricane project? Well, as it so happened, the evil roommates about whom I've spoken just now and previously, make it their aim to use everything up to the very last morsel... but not the last morsel. In doing this, they attempt to make it my folly to use the last of whatever we have, making it then my implicit responsibility to replace it (see: the plaintive wisps of toilet paper that cling to a half-naked cardboard roll which greets me each week in our common bathroom... as an aside, I had a social experiment whereupon I did not replace the toilet paper at all, instead shuttling my own roll back and forth from my bedroom... at the end of two weeks, the empty roll still remained perched upon the dispenser, leaving one to wonder at both the sanity and the sanitation of my coinhabitants). SO, the roll around which my full and seeming endless sheet of aluminum foil used to coil had a scrap still clothing it which my roommates had left for me to use up, which just barely covered enough of the pan to make my cookies after all.



In my blind anger, I did something drastic......


...I tossed the empty box and roll in one motion into the trash barrel, with slightly more force than was necessary.

...may the Lord forgive me my momentary loss of control.

you're crazy :D
man, i'd do much more than that. do the toilet paper thing, but with everything needed. see how long she can last. that's pretty messed up...
» middaymoon on 2006-12-03 10:40:32

Name.

URL.

[to enter your email, use "mailto:[email protected]"]
Subject.

Comment.

Word verification.

Copy the first 4 characters only.

If you are a member, try logging in again or accessing this page here.