You see, I have a temper.
Much better these days of course. Mellowed with age and experience and all that. Since I rarely let my temper get away from me, folks start assuming that I'm a perpetually sunny, peppy person all the time. Which is as far from the truth as it gets honestly since I do actually possess a temper of my own. Doesn't show itself all that often which is one of the reasons all my best frenemies are quick to point out that I can be quite the ice-cold bitch.
It's certainly not the quick flash of temper that fades away just as fast as it appears - the kind my dad and my brother ( and my niece I think ) share. Where the bark's usually much worse than their bite since they've calmed down reasonably by that time.
My temper's a different kinda monster. Starting with a tiny flicker, it slowly builds up heat and steam as it simmers silently. While I appear perfectly calm on the outside, I'm actually starting to boil a little - and it frequently amazes me that the compacted steam hasn't started pouring out of my ears till I'm just at the brink of a catastrophic explosion.
THAR she blows!
And when it finally blows, everyone within range gets caught in the devastating blast effects - including any innocent bystanders who happen to get caught in the falling debris. Seriously. Like Vesuvius, it explodes but rarely ( maybe once in a couple of years? ) but once it's loose, memorably cutting sarcasm comes pouring out like molten lava turning the unprepared victims around stone ashen. Don't believe in the well-worn adage that words don't hurt as much as sticks and stones. Bruises heal but memories remain.
So when a... misguided colleague ( another Scalpel Sith who's been baiting me for days ) finally stepped on my tail last night, I practically erupted. Talk about a nasty diatribe. Everything from her uncooperative attitude to her uncomplimentary wardrobe to her unmarriageable status got summarized into a cold pithy sentence that left her shocksilenced.
Somehow it's a crazed black rage that I find myself sometimes unable to wrest into control which is why I usually hide away for a spot of quiet brooding meditation counting sheep - at least before I inadvertently wrestle someone to the ground, punch them around and tear their heads off.
Just to see blood spurt.
Violent? I know. Though I usually stick to verbal punches. Doesn't leave me any less remorseful afterward though. Short of being an unfeeling monster without a conscience ( as my detractors would claim ), we're always left feeling a little guilty later. So as the ads go, start counting sheep :P