Ok, lets get down to basics.
Fuck this shit.
Have you ever witnessed me in the middle of a temper tantrum? No, of course you haven't, but let me tell you, it's ugly. Very very ugly.
See, I have a tendency to let it ride, swallow it, keep it
(more) in and let it build.
When it's built up enough to bring me to the edge, you know, that place I'm hovering near right this very minute, I can explode and not in a good way.
I've been known to put my fist through a wall and don't even ask me how I've earned the nickname Slambo, all you have to do is take a gander at some of the cabinets and doors I've slammed, er, I mean closed firmly and you won't need to ask.
Items being hurled across the room? Me.
Cursing up a storm enough to put a sailor to shame? Me again.
Well-aimed barbs sharp enough to split a hair? Yep, me.
Dishes smashed? Yep again.
Glasses left on counters by other people who shall remain nameless? Crash bang smash it up.
I've been known to, after several warnings, sweep an entire counter filled with dirty dishes left for me to deal with into a garbage can, smashing each one as I hurl it into a growing pile of plate pieces mixed with filthy filled ashtrays.
The garbage-men must be baffled.
If anyone bothers to pay attention, there are signs that an explosion is imminent.
Slambo can easily be avoided with a little bit of casual observation.
If you see me simmering quietly, answering questions with one word answers or, and this is a huge one, not saying anything at all, you might want to steer clear of my line of vision.
Sometimes, I have anger issues.(less)
