I was going to give out my throat punch this week to a large group of socially inept idiots but I decided to narrow it down. This helps me ensure my punch makes contact.
I hate missing.
I also hate the clinic. It is filled with sick, tired, and frustrated people who lose sight of where they are and that they are still humans. People who are representing their family and should act appropriately.
That being said.
I packed in my purse a giant Throat Punch before I left because I knew someone would need it, and it just so happens I was sitting right across from two unruly teenagers who did!
I can forgive that the girl was wearing pajama pants and Uggs because she was sick yo!
I can let it slide that she wanted m&m’s and demanded her boyfriend go and purchase a bag for her, who am I to judge her cravings when on her death-bed?
But I cannot stop the hairy eye balls that I shoot across at them when pajama teen drapes herself across three chairs and exclaims “I’m so G*d Damn Sick.”
Oncoming Throat Punch.
I held back because I understand being sick. I have had a tough go these past couple of months and I get it, so I thought I would let it slide.
And then the hitting started.
I was fairly certain that hitting as a display of affection ended in grade 2, however, times change. I also don’t remember the hitting being quite so hard and matched with such anger.
My patience immediately ended when a mother and her little girl sat down beside me. A little girl my daughters age.
I reached in my purse and grabbed my Throat Punch, ran my fingers over it.
The two sloths were arguing over texting when I glanced up and had begun another round in the ring, my heart raced and I prepared myself for when I would be tagged in.
My turn came sooner than I anticipated.
Pajama pants became angry and boomed an F which was matched just as fast by her boyfriend who boomed another right back.
I picked up my Throat Punch and whipped it at both of them, ensuring contact came hard and fast.
It was met with resistance but I persisted.
I slapped the boy with a second, reminding him that I didn’t care if he was in a public place, I would slap his larynx all the live long day if it meant that he kept his mouth shut.
And I enjoyed the rest of my clinic visit in peace and quiet.
Conclusion: Never leave home without your Throat Punch.
Go check out the host of Throat PunchThursday at The Truth About Motherhood