Death by Way of Stick

Mary Roth came up to me this morning. She was agitated, and grabbed my shoulders roughly. She wanted to talk, but I didn't feel like being talked at. Anger and its friends have left me again, and happiness is replacing it but slowly.

"I feel like beating someone with a stick." She said angrily.

"Well I know someone who needs to be beaten with a stick," Said I. "I think we can help each other." I edged past her to the door and just left. It was unlike me, but with the soap-opera my life's been the last three weeks even I have the right to a little angst.