Rip

You might remember when I was in Fairborn a few months ago I ate in a restaurant and had urges to rip off the head of a bald man. Well, I feel like ripping a head off again, but I have no one in particular in mind. I feel so irritable I could steal Sitting Bull’s chair – not that he sat in a chair. He probably sat Indian fashion with crossed-legs. So I’d grab his blanket.

But what would I do with a ripped off head? I don’t think I have considered this before. I guess I am assuming I would rip off the head and drop it and leave the area . . . and at this point I am thinking it would just get too complicated. I believe it is that explosive moment in your mind when you KNOW you would absolutely love to rip someone’s head’s off that works best for relieving stress. There’s no pretending you are some sort of understanding, compassionate, empathetic person; you are a head-ripper. You accept it; you embrace it. You are free.

I wonder if there are people who can psychically sense the presence of a “head-ripper” and are inclined to put heads back on. Why I don’t know, but that’s why I don’t have the reputation of a nice person. Well, there is the mess issue again – heads, torsos, blood. Then again there is no mess when you are talking about this going on in imagination. You can actually smile while thinking, “I want to rip your head off.”

I seem to feel better now.