The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Explanation of story: I tend to write when I'm angry to pissed off. This story was during one of those times. It's an old story, though whenever I'm angry at someone, now-days it makes me laugh. Hope you enjoy and please remember I was a Freshmeat-Freshman when I wrote this.



Burning, burning, burning, that's how I felt all I could think. I wanted him to burn in hell forever but I knew yelling at him would just make things worse, for me and my boyfriend. I wonder if God has a special place for people who don't yell and scream at people and cause harm when they really want to. *sighs* He punched my boyfriend upside the head. How am I supposed to feel? Normal? Hell no! I love him and the guy that hit him is clearly a numb skull.



I know it would be dangerous. But wouldn't it be lovely sometimes to just, I don't know, see the future as a motivation on how things are going right now? I know the people who tease me and my boyfriend because of me being white and him black are goting to "get it" some day. Weather "it" is being beaten up themselves or being fired from a job, or not even getting it. It's so hard to be the "better person" even though I know in the future it will be a good thing.



Ugh, I now know why there are "bully's" in this world. To make those who will make a difference in the world strong enough to do it in their heart. Maybe at some point there will be a time to say "thank you for picking on me because now I'm a CEO of a major corporation saving the Earth", or "thank you for bein such a no-brain jack ass so I can have a life in the future much better than yours". Gosh I hope that time comes soon because I can't wait for it to happen.



I can envision it now. Me in my designer clothing, not skanky-looking though, married, have a family, the CEO of a future environmental department. I go to my desk and ask for the person who was accused of beating up another employee because he "looked at him wrong". He had been in jail before, weather it being a juvenile detention center or the local jail.



The employee come in, anger in his eyes, cuffed, followed by the police. I had asked the police to let me talk to him before they take him in for questioning. I slightly recognize him, and realize he's the guy who punched my boyfriend in the head when I was a freshman in high school. "Hello" I say. The man just glares like a wild animal. "Do you want to sit?" I ask him. Nodding to the police to let him go from their grip.



"I'd rather stand." He says in a hiss. I slightly nod to myself and stand from my soft, black, leather desk chair.



"I am not at all sorry to say this because what you did is a horrendous thing to do to another employee."



"He looked at me wrong!"



"I don't care! And if you interrupt me again I will encourage the judge to lengthen the sure sentence you will serve. Am I clear?" I don't wait for an answer, telling the officers that they can leave me with him. They don't question my authority and exit to leave me with my two body guards and the employee.



"I know you. You may not remember me. But I remember you buddy." I get in his face giving him my own glare.



"How?" He asks.



"You punched my boyfriend in the head in high school. You may not remember it but let me give you something that you will remember me by." I turn to my body guards. "Hold him." They do and I take out an emergency knife I kept in my desk incase of intruders. It has a wooden handle and a thin blade which is so sharp you just have to slightly touch it to be cut. I unbutton his shirt and across his chest I write the word BITCH with the knife. He screams loudly and fights against the arms of the one body guard holding him. When I'm done I ask the other one to get me some gauze to stop the bleeding and tape it around the wound. Tears are rolling down the man's face from the pain of the cut which I made sure would scar with the way I had cut it. "Good luck explaining that name to the guy who's going to be making you his in jail." I look at the guard holding him. "Give him back to the officers please, I don't want to see him anymore." They take him outside the door after his shirt is re-buttoned.



The week after I hear on the news that he was killed by the way of someone cutting his dick off and leaving him to die.



I know it's cruel to think, but sometimes it's best to think of those kinds of things than to have anger building up so much that you just want to scream and beat the person you're mad at even if you get massively hurt in the process. Why can't people be at least a wee-bit nicer?