When It Rains It Pours Rage Out Of My Ears (I Know That Makes No Sense, But That's How Furious I Am)

There is a higher power.

I know this because He (or She/It/Them, whatever you believe) sees all of my innermost thoughts. A superior being who is up there calling the shots is the only one who could read my mind and sense when I am in a terrible mood whilst I hide it to the rest of the world.

Only an omniscient deity could possibly know that I hate everyone and am on the verge of strangling the next person that speaks to me for any reason other than to give me cash or ask, “Have you been working out?” I have, in case you were wondering.

So, devil’s advocate, you wonder how I know that there is someone out there who is privy to the inner machinations of my mind? Because they torment me at these precise moments, that’s how. They pick the times when I am so pissed off I could choke somebody to sprinkle more crap onto the manure sundae of my life.

It’s as if this all powerful one notices I’m crabby and acts like the overtired parent whose child has whined a few too many times because they haven’t gotten what they wanted at the department store.

“You want to cry? I’ll give you something to cry about!”

Call me crazy, but this is the only method I have of explaining why when I come home from a bad day at work and shut down because I don’t want to take my bad mood out on everybody else, I end up getting water in my basement. And it’s the only logical explanation for why at the same time my dog would be so suddenly afraid of the thunder that he pees on my dining room floor in the middle of the night, causing the entire house to smell of urine (my lack of enthusiasm over this smell is precisely why I bought a dog instead of a cat). Furthermore, it’s the only reasoning that I will accept why my pool would then be so overfilled that one side of it would begin to collapse as I’m standing next to it and nearly wash me into my neighbor’s yard which, by the way, it transformed into a swamp within a span of ten seconds.

“Heh-heh…sorry about that, Bob. It’ll dry out by next Thursday.””

It seems that the only thing that caused this seemingly never-ending barrage of annoying events to subside was my indifference to them. Once I stopped swearing and stomping around the house after each new blow to my optimism, the bad things stopped happening. It’s like when your older brother stops picking on you because you stop crying about it. It becomes less interesting for the bully.

Maybe someone was trying to send me a message. Maybe my blood was unexplainably gamma-radiated and if I were to become angry enough, I would turn into the Hulk. Perhaps the man upstairs has simply been trying to alert me to my as yet undiscovered power. He’s been trying to push me over the edge so that I can finally realize my calling: to be chased around to globe from location to location where I will inevitably help random citizens who are, at first, terrified by the sight of me but soon come to see that I’m just a tormented soul who wants to be left alone and wouldn’t hurt anybody unless provoked. They will understand this after I lift a truck off somebody or rescue a frightened little girl’s cat from a tree and return it to her despite her parents’ attempts to distance her from me. “What jerks we were to think he would harm our daughter,” they’ll say. “He was only trying to help her.” I’ll then hitchhike to the next town after calming down and finding a new flannel shirt and pair of purple jeans as somber piano music plays in the background.

Rather than risk it, the next time I have a bad day at work, I’m going to talk very loudly about what a great day it was. I will then pray and sacrifice live animals in honor of the remarkably wonderful day I had and perform an interpretive dance, reliving all of its best moments.

Maybe then whomever it is that likes to see me fly into uncontrollable rages will leave me alone like I want everyone else to on those days. If not…HULK SMASH!