A loud bang echoed throughout the house.
“SUNUVA—mmmm,” my friend spouted, “PIXIE—-BISCUIT—erraaghh!”
He had stubbed his toe.
“You okay,” I asked, rounding the corner.
He leered at me with a possessed look, then relaxed. “If one is fine with having one’s bones in their pinky toe re-arranged, I’m right as rain,” he said through a fake smile.
“Come on,” I said, “you’ll be fine after we bandage it up, and drop the attitude man, you’re just raging. No need to aim it at me.”
“Awwe, you gonna bandage my boo-boo,” he said, making a kid face.
“Nope,” I said, tossing the first aid kit towards his scarlet toe. he caught it before it made contact. “I mean, I could have if you didn’t look like you were gonna spit venom for my asking if you were okay.”
“Your words ring true like that of a woman, Ben; you hit me where it’s tender, much like my wife . . . or an asshole.” He paused from getting bandages for a moment. “Unless—wait wait wait, you’re trying to teach me something again aren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” I said with a whimsical look and tone.
“Fine, I’ll listen. Just don’t hit tender spots,” he said, pointing at his toe.
“Listen man, it’s okay to be angry. We all get there at some point, even Depok Chopra, but you can’t let the rage control you or you’ll be just as well off as the next idiot.”
“What’s the difference,” he asked, “between rage and anger, I mean.
“You can’t control feeling angry because it’s an emotion. That’s like telling your brain ‘nope can’t do that’ when you’re sad and lonely, or happy, if you’re a masochist.
“The rage can’t be justified because it’s your reaction to the anger. Do you walk away or stay and let loose with some serious rage,” I asked.
“Well, I should tell you, I’m not feeling angry anymore,” he said, topping off the bandage.
“Good, now let’s go watch a movie,” I said, crossing the hall.
“ARRGH –PYGMIES,” I yelled, falling to my back. I had followed in my friend’s footsteps, quite literally.
“It’s okay man,” he said with a grin, “even Depok is angry right about now.”