Go Wild
by Steven Gowin
Sometimes you have to go wild; you have just to go fucking nuts. You do.
The cafeteria got new soup cup lids... very eco... made of corn husk or something... but they don't fit. Today I pushed a lid down on my leek soup, but the lid didn't seat, and the force upset the soup which spilled all over me. This is my life in a soup cup... or out. I hate the world.
Before I knew it, I was yelling, “God damn it all to Hell. Son of a bitch! Bastards, bastards, bastards!” I threw my badge and work keys to the floor, and stormed away to find something to clean the mess. No one was hurt, and the cashier insisted on buying my soup. I have no weapon. I'm not sorry.
This is how to go wild; it is. This is how you go just fucking nuts.
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Author's Note
This might be off, but I had to try something.
Other stories by Steven Gowin
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Had you been armed Steven, you would have restrained yourself. This is true. As somebody in the milieu once said or wrote, to have it repeated until it's become adage: "An armed society is a polite society."
Then there was John Wesley Hardin, who shot a man to death for snoring. That, too, has has entered the annals. ;-) *
We are from another time, another sensibility, Steve. You are right--that is the way to go wild.
Good approach to the world, Steven. Enjoyed the read.
Yes, tantrums! That's the way to go wild. Any three-year-old can tell you that.
"and stormed away to find something to clean the mess"—now that's the story of *my* life!
Another perfect capture, Steve.
Nice message here, Steven. And good writing, too. *