You need to leave. Now.

I'm not a violent person. I'm also not a terribly brave or heroic person. If put in the position, I'd do every thing I could to avoid a serious confrontation or physical altercation.

That said, I've head butted mother fuckers for simply saying the wrong thing to me. I've also hurdled lunch tables and beat people senseless with their food trays.

I'm not proud of it, but it happens sometimes. My emotions occasionally and simply get the better of me. I can't say I'm ashamed, either. I have a very distinct and limited threshold for bullshit. Once you cross that line with me, there's no stopping me. Don't get me wrong - my tolerance level is insane. I have the patience of a Buddhist monk, except when I don't. It's those times that I'm completely reckless and dangerous.

I have alot of anger inside me - more than I'll ever be able to civilly express. I store that rage and use it to fuel my epic meltdowns. It's very power stuff. I may never be able to fully deplete my stockpile of mind-numbing devastation, which means I'll probably out live you all - especially if you piss me off. I could live for a century off the adrenaline from just one of these momentary lapses of self-control.

"Please, hit me. Lay a hand on me. Give me permission to return the favor. Please."

I should not be thinking those things. I should not be standing toe to toe with a 400+ pound man. I should be slightly more concerned about my personal well being and safety.

But, he shouldn't have made her cry. That sonuvabitch shouldn't have done that.

She's just barely 17. She's a girl. She might weigh 80 pounds soaking wet and holding my television. She's bawling her damned eyes out and shaking in such terror that she can't even wipe the snot from her nose.

There's a release valve in my heart and when I see that bullshit, it opens and every precious, horrible thing that I've been shoving in there and keeping locked away comes flying out. Suddenly, I'm bulletproof and insane. I can feel the blood in my veins begin to boil and every one of my muscles tighten. I hear myself saying things I'd expect to hear in a movie written by Stallone. I won't tell you the things I'm thinking about doing in that moment. I will never, never tell you that. You'd vomit. I have a miraculous imagination.

God help me if I ever have children of my own. God help the world, too.

On a normal day, there's no way I could come close to hurting this guy. But today, he's going to the fucking hospital and I might just carry him there myself.

Fortunately for everyone, the police in this area have excellent response time.