Flash Fiction and Anger

Another free write exercise that produced a Flash Fiction piece based on a prompt. The first words in italics are the prompt.

I've never felt angrier at anyone for anything.

Usually my temper is under control. When I get mad, I get quieter and quieter until the object of my anger has to move closer to hear my whisper.

When Bob said he was moving his mother into our home, I know he expected a negative reaction.

Okay, she was old and crippled. However her mind was in perfect shape as was her tongue which she dipped in poison daily to spew at anyone in range.

Our household was peaceful with our one daughter. Other than the terrible twos and a six-month rebellion at 13, she'd been a delight. She was now at university, giving Bob and me, total freedom.

I screamed.

I yelled.

I threw books.

I didn't throw anything that would break and I'd have to clean up afterwards.

"I know she can be difficult," Bob said.

"Difficult?" Another book sailed across the room.

"Difficult?" Three more books went airborne.

"What else can we do?" 

"Put her in an old age home. Leave her out in the snow." Usually, I'm a kind person, but a freezing mother-in-law warmed my heart.

"Maybe I should have discussed with you before offering to..."

The book shelves were empty. 

Never in 22 years of marriage had I issued and ultimatum. "Her of me Bob."