The Old Ways

hat

Stick to the old ways. That’s what I always say. The tried and the trusted ways. The good old ways. The ways that have never let us down…

 

When I hear of people not sticking to the old ways this makes me very angry. Angry and fearful. But mainly angry. My blood starts to boil. The veins in my neck start to stand out. My face starts to turn dark purple. I begin to feel the hot rage bubbling up like molten lava from deep within me.

 

I spend a lot of time thinking about how wrong it is not to stick to the old ways. Nothing makes me as angry as this. It chokes me. When I think of how well the old ways have served us, how things have always been just fine with the old ways, I am infuriated beyond belief at the thought of people who would just casually dispense with them, disregard them, disrespect them. It’s not just the stupidity of these people that gets me, it’s the sheer ingratitude of them!

 

The bastards! The dirty filthy crowd of shit-heads! I can’t understand what’s going on in their heads at all when they turn their backs on the old ways like they do. I can’t understand that type of wrongheadedness. Not that I try very hard. Actually, if I were to be really honest I would have to admit that I don’t try at all. I have never even thought of trying. What’s wrong with the bastards to be thinking like this? Not that I care very much what’s wrong with them – I just want to put them right. I want to teach them a lesson. A lesson they will never forget. A lesson that will stay with them for the rest of their days.

 

I want it to be personal. Up close and personal. I want to be personally involved in them seeing how wrong they are. I want them to know that its ME teaching them the lesson. I want them to see my face. Right up close their own. So that they can know who it is that’s putting them right. So they can know that it’s me…

 
I hunger to teach them the lesson they need to learn. I hunger to be the one who gets to do this. I yearn to get a chance to wreak the full weight of my outrage upon them. I yearn so much that it hurts. It is a pain within me. It never hurt me to follow the old ways, I rage. It never did me any harm. What in the name of God is wrong with these bastards? The rage-pain is like a massively heavy red-hot ball of iron lodged inside me. It is burning me from the inside, burning away at me from my very core. The brutal unholy pain of it gnawing away at me. The dirty old pain of it…

 

I can barely contain this hungering that I feel. The hungering to teach these bastards a lesson. It threatens to burst right out of me. What would it look like if it burst clean out of me and I could see it there standing next to me, I found myself wondering. Winking at me and saying hello. Tipping its hat cheekily at me and saying how are you doing buddy what’s the craic. You old fuck you. You old bastard…

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