Screaming echoed out from the Boss’s office. Isl stood there as spittle was shot out of his Boss’s mouth. He was allowing the stream of complaints to go in one ear and leave the other. He held back the disgusts welling in his heart as he felt a gob of spittle land on his cheek.

He faked paying attention, while his hand fiddled with trash in his pocket. A blank expression of indifference. In the inside he could only feel that he was wrong

“Why me. I didn’t do anything. Why does he alwasy target me? I made a small typo yeah, but nothing to scream about”

His eyes drifted off from the Boss, he felt his rage already boiling. Rage at his self pity and the wrong done towards him.

“Not my fault Xa-bitch pushed her work on me, while this,” H looked towards The boss, “Asshole was in earshot.” His hand clenched, crushing the trash, and he felt a sharp pain in his hand as his messed up hand joints failed. That only fueled his anger more.

His heart thumped, his skin boiled, he could almost feel heat radiating of him as his ears turn red.

“Fuck this shit!” Isl screamed as he threw a punch at his Boss, he continued till the Boss was on the ground whimpering.

Isl snapped out of his fantasy. He sighed.

“Ahhh, just a thought.” He calmed his rage, and became passive once again. “Just go with it, and we might only get a pay dock.”

He felt his center of gravity change as The boss pushed him on left shoulder

“Are you even listening to me!” His face was beat red.

Isl looked with a placed face to his shoulder to his Boss, well, soon to be Ex-boss.

“Did you just attack me? Your employee? Oh, oh no, I must retaliate or I will be killed.” He said it all in a almost robotic tone, but a grin could be in his tone after he said killed.

The dam of will holding his rage happily opened, and Isl jumped forward. “I am quitting sir!”

-

Isl walked home, box under his shoulder. His left side hurt to all hell. He searched for his smokes in his right pocket.

H elect out a sigh as he grabbed a box of gum. “I quite.” He threw a piece in his mouth and began to chew.

“Why did I do that!”

He let out annoyed scream.

“Thats gonna be a black mark, maybe I convince it as a self defense? No,”

“SHIT.” He groaned

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“I probably cant. I got fired last time over me and a coworker getting in a fist fight after he took my work and said it was his own, getting promoted.”

Ill just sleep this off, and think of something tomorrow.

“Maybe I can get a job as a fireman? I think the cut off is twenty five. I’m like twenty three? Maybe twenty four. Maybe the army.”

After that he just walked home in a silent brood, the gum lost its flavor at some point, Isl didnt notice till he remembered he had gum in his mouth.

Getting a slight workout from his spiral staircase up to his apartment he could feel the sting in his legs as he fumbled with his keys. After finding the right one he unlocked his door. He sighed and dropped his stuff at the left of his door.

Isl began walking over to his coach, slowly getting undress — chiming out of his pants, unbuttoning his shirt to let his pecks show. He plopped down on the coach, a gust of air pushing out from under him.

He looked up, hands resting on the coach’s backside, “What am I gonna do?”

“Why does this shit always happen to me!? Yeah I rage sometimes, well, a lot. But I been doing so well with controlling it lately. But…”

“WHY IS IT SO HOT IN HERE!” Isl yelled, getting up and opening his balconies sliding door.

He plopped himself on the coach again, “After he pushed me, my… I just couldn’t control myself. Pretty sure I was grinning too. I felt the thrill of a fight well up along with the rage.”

He took a breath in and then out, his face becoming stern, “Not much I can do about it. I’ll start applying again. I just want to relax right. Uagh!” Isl relized he was talking aloud, “I got to stop doing that too, the neighbors already complained about it. Not my fault Texas got thin as fuck walls!” Rage rumbled in him.

“I just keep getting myself more angery as I think.” He let out a sigh and turned on the T.V. Playing some music. “I sigh a lot don’t I.”

He relaxed into the coach and closed his eyes, losing himself to the music, and let time drift by. One song past, then another. After each song, minus one, he felt more relax and his mind became clearer; that rage becoming a calm pond instead of a boiling pot.

“Weird analogy to think of, huh. Maybe I should write that down.” Isl thought.

Then sharp pinch of pain was felt on his leg. He slapped it… then… he heard a buzz. Isl eyes shot open and he saw the sun has began to set, the sky orangish red. He ignore that — pushing it to subconscious thought — his eyes hardened, focusing on one thing: A damn mosquito. A big, plump, and a monster of one. The size of his thumb and more some.

Isl shot up, boxers hanging loosely, shirt acting like a bad cape. He tracked the beast of mosquitoe with his eyes, then acted. Right as it began reaching to outside mark he leaped forward, clapping his hands together with enough force to make a slight shockwave.

He had missed. The mosquito flew by his hand. The mosquito was unfazed, in perfect condition actually. The mosquito was mocking him! It began floating past the door frame, and Isl leaped forward. Repeating the same process he clapped again. A miss again, and the mosquito was outside. Flying away with Isl blood.

A undignified rage made itself known to Isl. It flowed to his legs as they flexed to a painful degree. With a kickoff that flung him forward, he tensed his extended arms and hands. He slammed his hands together, right, over, the, damn, MOSQUITO!

The balcony squeaked.

“Got’ch-“ Isl thought was cut off as he felt his foot disappear. The sound of bolts ripping from cement sounded out. His gut twisted from the sudden momentum. Isl registered that he was falling.

The world did not slow, his life did not flash, and he could think of one thing. “I am going to die in my boxers.” His rage boiled over. Before he could flail in rage his fleshy body met the cement with a wet slop. Isl felt his bones break, his skin tearing open, his flesh becoming a meaty paste, his everything being stabbed by his broken bones. And an overwhelming pain, everything hurt. A slight twitch brought an eternity of agony.

Somehow his right arm was fine, even more surprising he was able to feebly move it infront of him. He noticed an even more noticeable pain in left eye, and that he couldn't see out of it — he didn't realize that a piece of metal had punchered through it and right in his brain.

He saw a smudge of mosquito on his palm. This… this for a moment brought peace to his barely functioning brain, then… then his whole self was filled with rage.

A sole thought rang out through his existence. “All of this because of a mosquito.” Pure unfiltered rage that couldn't even be transferred into words, but sole wale of rage towards mosquitoes echoed out in his mind, body unable to follow along.

“KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL.”

This was all his broken and dying brain could repeat. The damage was severe, it was truly a surprise he was even able to last for that long with such clarity of thought.

His body was failing and slowly it couldn't even repeat the feelings of rage towards mosquitoes. Isl was dead, his body a meatball of the sidewalk. But his existence still screamed his hate towards them. A rage screamed out, unheard. His rage holding his existence together, not allowing him to truly pass. A rage that caught the ears of someone… no… something.

The something couldn't and shouldn’t be able to express the feelings that made one grin, but strangely it did. A wide grin that was nonexistent and infinitely long.

It grabbed the core of Isl existence, feeling its hand of nothing and everything being burnt by Isl rage. It grinned more.

“Perfect.” It crooked out with a voice more ancient than the existence of this dimension.