“Did you actually wash my limited edition 1978 Chewbacca socks with your red sweater! They’re pink now! Ruined!!
“Temper, temper…” Momma warns.
Her incompetence has gone too far. “I am in control of myself Mother!” I scream over her.
“Calm down, Steve. It’s not the end of the world.. what are you doing?” Momma’s eyes go big and scared. “Come on now, put it away. Please! Just put it away!” She pleads.
I see her hands shake and that weakness amuses me. “Oh Momma, you know I can’t now. It’s been unsheathed.” I say loud and ominous.
She’s already backing away from me, and into the pantry, cowering. “Please…It was only an accident!”
“What’s done is done.” I answer before the blade cuts the air before sliding across her skin.
I swing my sword repeatedly with tempestuous fury, driving my blade deep.
Many moments of wild violence later, I stop to catch my breath.
“The blood is paid.”
Momma is silent.
My Master Blade is well fed
No one to nag me.
I clean the sharp edges and sweep it into the scabbard at my hip. It hums with fulfilled greed.
“Pity about the mess.” I complain to the walls and nobody.
Then crack open an energy drink.
Momma in a rug, rolls nicely down the basement stairs. Thump, thump, thumping the whole way.
I wipe away the sweat on my brow and go to watch some boob-tube.
“Damn… I’m hungry.” Guess I didn’t think that all the way through.
“Momma’s right… I should calm my temper a bit.”
Image is from http://www.theswca.com