Cobalt Steele in Anger Management.
by Cobalt Steele, the Man’s Man’s Man about town.
There’s really no need for me to get into the details of this story so I’ll just throw out the skinny. I was in the drive through at Krispy Kreme when, fatefully, I noticed the attendant was a lovely young lass by the name of Chrissy. She told me my coffee would take a little longer because they had just run out. I told her that her Hazel eyes were enchanting. She told me her name was Chrissy. I told her I had already read it on her tag. She told me she gets off work at noon and that I should call her. I told her I would do just that. She told me the coffee machine was broken. I told her (with the back of my hand) that that would not be acceptable.
So, long story short, I have been forced into an anger management group. The first week went well, but when I get mad now, I’m supposed to write a poem as opposed to punching a wall or, case in point, slap a Krispy Kreme attendant. Thus, today, I, Cobalt Steele, man’s man’s man about town, bear my soul for you. The inspiration for this poem comes from someone who, for anonymities sake shall be referred to only as Grosalynd Van Syke. Here goes nothing.
If you are happy,
I wish you ill.
If you’re having fun,
I wish you ill.
As long as you’re doing badly,
I am hoping it gets worse for you.
I want to sneak into your house at night,
And shave your head.
That way, the next day,
Everyone will laugh and say,
MAN, that bitch looks gay.
It’s only a first draft, but I think it captures my feelings pretty well, and honestly, I do feel better. Maybe shark should give it a try. On the other hand, he’s already pretty much at peace with himself. Who wouldn’t be making that kind of money? Shark, for those of you who do not know, is my Sniper. We met in Iraq during Operation Desert Shield. I was in Baghdad on holiday, and he was there looking for work. I guess Desert shield is kind of periphery to the situation but that’s how I place it temporally. We were both drinking at this dive that was run in secret by some lone wolf American friends of mine, and we hit it off. I seem to get in sniper-friendly situations quite often. I tell you, Chrissy from Krispy Kreme better be thanking her lucky stars I used my hand to slap her instead of to grab the walkie-talkie with shark on the other end. Uh-oh, I feel another poem coming on.
You work at my favorite restaurant.
Now I have to go to the one
on the other side of town.
For that, I could Kill you.
But I didn’t.
You are alive.
Aren’t you pleased?
I want to tell you to go to hell,
But I’d rather send you there…
on a 361 degree triangle. That’s it. The bitch Is gonna die…. no no no. Just hold on. Give it three days and if you still want to kill her…. well…. why else do you have a sniper? Any thoughts? Want to be part of the decision making process? Drop me a line.