Like a 1950s nun kicking the little girl under her desk.
Like a billionaire ejaculating on a $40,000 watch.
Like tyrant hearing a sycophant’s joke during the purge.
Like a budding killer dousing a cat with kerosene.
Like a border patrol agent who’s learned just enough Spanish to be cruel with it.
Like a wildfire taking a sudden turn toward inhabited areas.
Like the commander of the trebuchet that launches severed heads over the battlements.
Like an incumbent senator the night of his eighth reelection.
Like a man in wraparound sunglasses swerving his SUV toward a rabbit.
Like student loan officials at an all-expenses-paid luau.
Like a shitposter reading about the latest mass shooting.
Like a child’s nightmare of a cartoon villain as he slowly makes his way down the hall to the bedroom door.
Like a piano with only black keys, played by unseen hands.
Like a flash flood, like a rabid dog, like cut brakes, like hate speech, like black ice, like a sudden sharp pain in the left arm, like knives, like cuts, like blood.
Tags: jimmy, road house, the laugh