My Rage-Cause

I rarely get truly angry. Most of the time it's just a quick splash of red across my cheeks, or a clenched fist. Sometimes it's easier to keep it bottled up than let it spill out. The last time I got truly angry was during something that has become a rarity at our house. One of those old fashioned family dinners where we are present; no one is off on a business trip or out at a school function. The rest of my family is munching away at their sauce smothered baby back ribs, as I stir a steaming pot of my own creation. Joining the carnivores at the kitchen table, I sit down and a piece of flesh is shoved into my face along with a taunting rhyme. I don’t even bother to listen. I’ve heard them all before. Ignoring it, I turn back to my spoon and watch it dive into the murky water that fills my bowl. It weaves through mounds of vegetables and tofu. I am just scooping an imperfectly round slice of mushy carrot and beginning its slow journey to my mouth, as a particularly warm drop of barbeque sauce lands on my cheek. My eyes shift upward and focus on that same piece of bony severed flesh being dangled in front of my face. I shoot an unamused look in his direction as he drops it back onto the empty plate and pierces it with a fork. Taunting brotherly giggles meet my ears as images of how I want to react meet my eyes. I glance at the parentals, but I already know what their reaction will be. Nothing, of course. I think I even see the sliver of a smile on my father’s stern face. I hear more childish taunting before the smiled shushing from my mother. None of them even think twice as they dismiss my moral values like a bad joke. I drop my spoon, getting just a hint satisfaction as a clank rings out from the metal making sharp contact with the edge of the bowl. I let my chair screech against the wood floor and dismiss myself from this pleasant family dinner. My soup is left as unfinished as his taunting. This isn’t the end. Only in my room can I take refuge from this ridicule, for the time being, capping my anger like an unfinished soda. I wonder if they know of the mess that will come if they force the lid just a little too far. I wonder if I even know.