Some people do more than boil when they get mad, and children shouldn’t tempt them. Thanks for a random title suggestion from terribleminds.com, altered slightly to suit the temper of the narrator.
My blood boils as I study the footprints, child–sized, that some brat has scratched in my newly–poured sidewalk; all that lovely smooth cement now pebbled and irregular, and… and…
“Calm yourself,” I tell myself. “You mustn’t.”
It’s true. The last time my blood boiled, when that kid — could be the same one! — hurled my newspaper into the neighbour’s garden —
(boiling, simmering, steaming)
— the last time I let it blow I levelled fourteen blocks. Fortunately it was mid–morning, mid–week, and most people were at work, at school, shopping. Hardly anyone got hurt. Just a few were killed.
• • •
Don’t these kids understand?
My name is Havoc.