Snapped
Your significant other enrages you, but you keep it hidden inside. Every morning, as you both carpool to work, he's angry, nitpick, nagging, and generally miserable to be around, and that smooth jazz music he always has on doesn't help either. You want to push him out of the moving car. You have fantasies of getting a phone call that he's died in a horrible accident. You stare at him as he sleeps and you want to put a pillow on his head and suffocate him. That is how much you hate him.
The snotty kid who serves coffee at the local coffee shop is a sexist bastard. He'll greet the guys enthusiastically, boast loudly about stuff he has, and ignore the other customers in line, and treat the "hot girls" special, but when it comes to you "ordinary" people, he refuses to smile, he rolls his eyes, and treats you like you are an annoyance in his day. And you stand there thinking,
"Really? They hire people like this? This is customer service?" You want to burn his face with scalding hot water, leave him scarred, and let him know how it feels to be judged. But oh, you also want to go further than that. You want to take his skull and crush it, as you pour hot, scalding coffee into the cavity of his brain. You want to watch him writhe in pain. You keep thinking "he deserves it. I'm making the world a better place. Less people like him around makes life better." These are the thoughts I plant in your head after you say your prayers. I give you the answers.
Just get rid of them. This is why you have us guardian angels. We give you less conventional, creative, and effective solutions to your problems. Just get rid of them. Less work for us if you do it yourself.
Why did you pray to me? Because these people make your life miserable. Therefore, you make my life as a guardian angel miserable. Really miserable. So, here's what I'll do. I know, I know. I'm supposed to tell you that everything will be OK, that I'll make things better, that somehow I will miraculously make your damn significant other nicer, sweeter, less angry; or that I'll give a gentle lesson in better manners to that coffee shop guy, and somehow, he'll be a better person.
Really? This is what you pray to me about? Not about world hunger, not about saving the polar bears, but because you can't put up with the low-lifes of the world? And you want me to save you from...well...this? But I understand how you weak and miserable humans can just snap over anything. But you know, that's so cliche, and it doesn't happen that way. I'm not a people-fixer. I'm not a damn therapist. I'm a supernatural being. I can control things the way i want to, and I can make people do anything. Including you.
So there you are, beating that coffee shop guy over the head with an axe you so thoughtfully brought this morning, and I loved your dramatic entrance, by the way, screaming at him that you're tired of his asshole attitude. I told you to split his skull in half. Funny how dark blood matched that dark roast. I even expected the people in line who had to put up with his BS every morning to clap.
As for your significant other, I was impressed how you showed up back to his workplace after you dropped him off, you in your bloody clothes, and how you forced him back into the car. For the first time, he was completely speechless. For once. I watched you both as you drove a a very high speed into a concrete barrier. Of course I put that thought in our head. I can't leave you alive to whine again about something now, can I? I'm such a bad, bad guardian angel.
The snotty kid who serves coffee at the local coffee shop is a sexist bastard. He'll greet the guys enthusiastically, boast loudly about stuff he has, and ignore the other customers in line, and treat the "hot girls" special, but when it comes to you "ordinary" people, he refuses to smile, he rolls his eyes, and treats you like you are an annoyance in his day. And you stand there thinking,
"Really? They hire people like this? This is customer service?" You want to burn his face with scalding hot water, leave him scarred, and let him know how it feels to be judged. But oh, you also want to go further than that. You want to take his skull and crush it, as you pour hot, scalding coffee into the cavity of his brain. You want to watch him writhe in pain. You keep thinking "he deserves it. I'm making the world a better place. Less people like him around makes life better." These are the thoughts I plant in your head after you say your prayers. I give you the answers.
Just get rid of them. This is why you have us guardian angels. We give you less conventional, creative, and effective solutions to your problems. Just get rid of them. Less work for us if you do it yourself.
Why did you pray to me? Because these people make your life miserable. Therefore, you make my life as a guardian angel miserable. Really miserable. So, here's what I'll do. I know, I know. I'm supposed to tell you that everything will be OK, that I'll make things better, that somehow I will miraculously make your damn significant other nicer, sweeter, less angry; or that I'll give a gentle lesson in better manners to that coffee shop guy, and somehow, he'll be a better person.
Really? This is what you pray to me about? Not about world hunger, not about saving the polar bears, but because you can't put up with the low-lifes of the world? And you want me to save you from...well...this? But I understand how you weak and miserable humans can just snap over anything. But you know, that's so cliche, and it doesn't happen that way. I'm not a people-fixer. I'm not a damn therapist. I'm a supernatural being. I can control things the way i want to, and I can make people do anything. Including you.
So there you are, beating that coffee shop guy over the head with an axe you so thoughtfully brought this morning, and I loved your dramatic entrance, by the way, screaming at him that you're tired of his asshole attitude. I told you to split his skull in half. Funny how dark blood matched that dark roast. I even expected the people in line who had to put up with his BS every morning to clap.
As for your significant other, I was impressed how you showed up back to his workplace after you dropped him off, you in your bloody clothes, and how you forced him back into the car. For the first time, he was completely speechless. For once. I watched you both as you drove a a very high speed into a concrete barrier. Of course I put that thought in our head. I can't leave you alive to whine again about something now, can I? I'm such a bad, bad guardian angel.
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