Anger

It was Saturday, 5PM, at the Universal Retail outlet as multitudes of customers filed in from the snowy weather to browse. It was Antonio’s day to run the store alone. He hated it because every Saturday was extremely busy with the usual crabby customers. Antonio would manage long lines of patrons waiting to purchase items. Other times they’d ask him about products he wouldn’t know about such as the latest cell phone and long distance offers. Had he had updated information on those particular promotions, he’d’ve been making huge commissions by now.

Antonio hoped desperately that this Saturday would flow well. A couple of hours had passed by. So far so good, Antonio thought until a disgruntled gentleman stormed in with snow tracks, complaining about a broken phone. Antonio was very nervous because he wasn’t too familiar with procedures on repairs. When he offered to send the phone in for repair the customer became more edgy.

“My name is Ned Baxter and I’ve had problems after problems with this cheap phone that I got from this store years ago. And every time some flunky sales rep sent it in for repair, it kept coming back with the same problems. So I’m not going to waste my time with you people attemptin’ to send it back for repairs. You hear me? I want my money back!”

Antonio panicked internally because he knew he couldn’t refund an old phone. Then he thought of an idea. “Sir, let me phone my manager and see if he’ll let me refund this for you.”

“You do that!” Baxter barked. “And he better give my money back or you’ll both be sorry!”

“Just take it easy, sir, we’re here to help you in whatever we-.”

“Just cut the jargon and call your manager!” Baxter interrupted.

Antonio picked up the phone and called his manager Benny. Fortunately, Benny was home.

Antonio looked up from the phone to relay a question to Baxter from his manager. “He wants to know if you have the receipt and how long you had the phone.”

“I don’t have the receipt anymore and I’ve had the phone for five years.”

When Antonio relayed all this back to Benny, he told him there’s nothing they can do but send it in for repairs or sell him a new phone. Antonio was speechless.

“Tony? Hello?” Benny called out from his end of the phone.

Antonio paced away from Baxter to quietly explain to Benny how angry and violent Baxter will be if he tells him that.

“Tony, don’t worry. Just be calm, direct, and confident, when you tell him.”

“I don’t know, Benny, it may not do any good. Can you just talk to him?”

“I’m sorry, but I have to get going. Just call my cell if you have any more problems.”

Before Antonio could plead any further with Benny, Benny hung up. Time to face the music, Antonio thought. He paced back to place the cordless phone onto the receiver before telling Baxter the disappointing news from his boss.

“Well, what did he say and there better not be a problem.”

Antonio cooled his nerves and begun. “I talked to my manager and he told me that by the phone being too old we honestly couldn’t refund you your money for it. We could suggest you-” Before he realized, Baxter was already charging around to his side of the display case toward him. “Now listen, sir, just calm down. There’s no need to-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I warned you I would make you and your boss would pay. And you’re first.”

When Baxter corned Antonio near the merchandise shelf, he grabbed him by the collar. Antonio prayed desperately, especially when he saw Baxter about to slam his fist into his face. Before Baxter could go any further, a young man rushed in, grabbed at his arms, and begged him to stop.

“Dad, what are you thinking? And what’s taking so long in here?”

“This sorry young flunky and his boss won’t give me money back on this cheap phone so I’m going to make them pay. Then I’m gonna shove this phone down his throat.”

“Dad, you’re being ridiculous over a phone. Beating on him is not gonna solve anything. Why don’t you just get another phone?”

“Well, I’m not getting another one from here,” Baxter promised after calming down. And pointing at Antonio, he threatened, “And don’t be surprised if I show up here again. And you tell your so-called boss that.” Baxter stormed out and his son apologized profusely for his inexcusable behavior. Then he left.

Weary and perplexed, Antonio wandered into the rear supply room and sat a desk. Anger welled up through his veins. When he couldn’t contain himself any longer, he stood, picked up the chair and threw it at the back door. “How dare that customer! How dare my boss, and how dare this DEAD END JOB . . .”

It was 3pm Monday afternoon. Sally Stubing was just backing out of her parking space to leave the grocery store. Unexpectedly, a car rode out from no where and Sally backed into it. The impact unnerved her only a bit, since she and the driver bumped into each other. After she had calmed down, and was about to check on the other driver, a large, stone faced, middle-aged woman, started banging on her window.

“Hey, lady, you got a dent in my car and you’re gonna pay. Now come out and fight like a woman.”

Sally was pretty shaken this time. She wasn’t sure whether to step out and face the angry woman. She had to call the police. When she picked up her cell phone, the lady shook the car and made her drop her phone.

“I said, ‘come outta there and fight like a real woman!”

Sally scrambled around on the floor for her cell phone and picked it up. When she was about to place the emergency call, the lady climbed onto the hood of the car. The lady began to jump up and down on it, causing Sally to drop her phone again. After the lady put a huge dent in the hood, she lay back and started kicking in the windshield with her heavy heels.

“I said ‘come outta there!” The lady screamed again.

Sally quickly crawled over into the back of her car and crouched on the floor. She prayed and pleaded a way through this madness. Minutes later, Sally heard police sirens approaching. She looked up and stared hard through her shattered windshield at the lady being hauled off by the police. She stepped out of her car and noticed many onlookers surrounding the scene. Then the police came to comfort her . . .

The following Sunday afternoon, Kennedy Morgan was just into the heart of an organ selection for a famous female soloist.

“So far so good,” he thought. “Just as long as I’m keeping up with her. She’s a well renowned vocalist. I can’t mess up. The audience is watching me.”

Everything flowed smoothly with the song until Kennedy had failed to realize that the soloist changed key on the song. He tried to join her in that key before she had noticed, but he was too late. Suddenly, everything had come to a halt. He looked around and all eyes from the congregation were on him. The soloist shook her head at him and started pacing back-and-forth in front of the audience, her body bent forward, as she ridiculed Kennedy.

“See, I knew I shouldn’ta hired this low-rate, wanna-be musician.” The audience roared with laughter at the vocalist.

Kennedy had his head lowered, not able to look up anymore. This was supposed to have been a very important evening for himself, as well as the vocalist. His musical career could’ve taken from this point, had he not erred. At least he could still look forward to some, if not all compensation.

“You messed me up! You embarrassed me on my biggest night! For that, you ain’t gettin’ no pay!”

Kennedy’s heart sunk at her bitter words . . .

That evening, Tyrex Hart, A.K.A Rex, sat up in his surveillance room ready for vengeance. He was outraged at the humiliation these victims had suffered at the hands of hot tempered people on his monitors. He was going to make these hot tempered people, at least a few, pay dearly tonight. He had all the technology at his disposal . . .

Ned Baxter spent another miserable night downstairs on the couch away from his nagging wife Lucille. She’d never stopped urging him to apologize for threatening the sales representative of Universal Retail a while back. And Baxter was never going to. Not able to sleep, he turned on the television to a classic movie and then heard some hideous laughter in his mind. It was so intense, he couldn’t shut it off. “Who’s there?”

“YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE!” the voice rose this time. “Remember that young man you threatened in the store recently?”

“What man?” Baxter asked, then felt an intense pain electrify through his insides. “What was that?”

“That my friend is just a preview of more pain to come if you don’t stop playing dumb. See, I have implanted a unique mini-sized capsule, deep within you. I can use it to punish you in all kinds of ways . . . like this?”

Baxter became immobile and fell to the floor. “Oh my God, I can’t feel my legs!”

“And more than that will happen to you, if you don’t return to that store tomorrow and apologize to Antonio Moorehouse. Are you clear?”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Just let me walk again.” Baxter instantly felt his legs again . . .

At home in her cozy suburban condo, Valerie Edwards, danced and hummed around in the kitchen, fixing a late hot chocolate. When she prepared to hum the next note, her voice was gone. She gulped down some hot chocolate but still couldn’t hear her voice, then the lights went out. In the living room, she noticed the television turning on. She watched a replay of herself insulting her organist Kennedy for ruining her song. Next, a message keyed into the screen which read: Unless you write a note of apology to your musician and pay him, you’ll never get your voice back. Then you’ll see how it feels to have your career ruined. In a frenzy, Valerie tripped over her reclining chair, while trying to find her office in the dark. As soon as the lights were back on, she rushed into her office and wrote a letter of apology . . .

A few days had passed since Clara Tubs had made bail for wrecking Sally Stubing’s car. She sat up in bed pondering more ways to threaten Sally for denting her car, should see ever see her again. She laughed grotesquely until she heard a noise that shook her house. Clara rushed outside in her robe and slippers and found her car smashed on the front driveway. In a sudden rage and loud voice, she barked, “All right, who wrecked my car? Whoever did it is gonna pay with their life!”

“I did it,” a faint voice replied from behind. Clara turned and saw a little boy smiling and waving. The boy began to shape-shift into many hideous figures, including a distorted figure of Clara. When the ever changing figure started motioning toward her, she backed away and fell onto her car. “Who are you? What have you done to my car?”

“All you care about is that beat up old car of yours?” The shape-shifting figure yelled out in echoes. “If you don’t apologize to that Stubings woman whose car you wrecked, I’ll give you more things to worry about when I wreck your garage, your home . . .EVERY bit of your junk. And I’ll continue making noise around your house every night until you’re back in jail for disturbing the peace this time.”

The shape shifting figure disappeared from sight. Clara was relieved until the figure reappeared unexpectedly from behind and yelled, “Now go back to bed!” Startled, Clara jumped up and rushed back into the house . . .

After avenging a few more victims of angry oppressors that evening, Rex rose happily from his seat, and left the control room, while the world was still under his surveillance.

THE END