Self Control

There must be a wonderful little gene or something that gives us self control. The ability to not shout obscenities in church, rip our clothes off on the bus or reach out and slap someone for no reason. I am glad I have this little gene or whatever, it keeps me out of trouble. I am sure some people do not have it, hence some of the activities described above do take place. I would imagine those doing so end up in some sort of home or prison.

I had to take a hammer and tap out a planter that had gotten stuck in the decorative well head outside the Towers. As I carried it I pondered all the mayhem I could do with one little claw hammer. Smash the windows in the entrance stairs, I hate them as they get dirty easy and are a pain to clean, dent the hood of Mr F's Mercedes Benz and put an end to the dirty front wheels of the thing (really! a M-B with oily, dirty wheels, but I have seen others like his with the same problem, so they deserve to be broken), oh the glitter of broken auto glass, dented hoods of all the people who annoy me!!! SMASH! BANG! Go inside and splinter the furniture, hammer the brass railing into a little brass ball, broken tile, a claw through the art work! PLUNDER!!! PILLAGE!!! ROAR!!!!!!!!!

The little gene holds me back and I gently tap on the side of the planter that is stuck...it loosens and is pulled out. The hammer is returned to its place and all the glass is intact. I am not fired, arrested or put in the nuthouse. Thank you genetics.