Passive-Aggressive. That’s me. I’m that passive aggressive personality type. Well I was, three months ago. Now I fall within the minimally-anxious-assertive range. Today I role-played some encounters and appeared “confidant” and even “carried” the conversation. What up now, fool? What, you want me to confront you about your unfair demands? You don’t think I can freely express my opposing opinion. Playa, you liein’ to youself. And don’t you dare think yourself free from my imposition of conversation when waiting in line in the bookstore. Bleh, I feel kinda assertive right now. It is better than I expected. There was something really empowering about quietly manipulating others to your will. It is a real confidence booster to easily speak your mind while respecting others.
I wana be Peter Petrelli. And it’s not just the bangs and choice of profession. Peter has the power I want. What about the power of flight, that do anything for ya? That’s levitation holmes! How ’bout the power to kill a yak, from two hundred yards! With mind bullets! That’s telekinesis Kyle! But no, these are not the powers bestowed upon precious Pete. How about the power… to move you? Yes, I feel moved when Peter uses his power. Peter has the potential to impersonate people, as well as passive precognition.
Anyway, yesterday I watched the first seven episodes of “Heroes.” I’m totally addicted. The eighth episode airs tonight at eight and I may or may not watch it (Potential prior plans >_>).
I see the bulge of the knife within her sleeve before she makes a move. I casually sidestep and lean my head from the blade now impaled in the wall behind me. We race to the cupboard seeking to restock our weapon supplies. I reach the drawer first.
I grab a blade in each hand. And lash out at her. She ducks under my twin slashes and kicks the drawer into the air. She reaches up into the falling utensils and picks out her choice shiv.
She moves quick and I try to keep her from pressing too close. Reach is my advantage in this fight. Reach and an overly developed cerebellum (>_>).
One block turns bad and her knife slices deep into my index finger. I scream out and she recoils, unprepared for my verbal assault. I take advantage of her lost balance and place a careful roundhouse to her temple. Wounded, I choose retreat. Another day then.
Or maybe… today (dun dun dun…).
I return after she has fallen asleep to exact some form of revenge. I find two objects quite dear to her and displace them. No one steals my blood without some form of collateral. I don’t smell any mint, hmm….
An overly developed cerebellum? Honestly Jules, you’re not a London cabbie.
This situation sounds oddly familiar . . . ?