Stress

He started whistling as he was leaving work.

He whistled all the way home,

Even while stuck in traffic.

He was still whistling when he reached his drive-way,

Whistling as he opened the door,

Whistling as he walked through the hallway into the kitchen,

Whistling when he opened the door of the fridge.

***

He was no longer whistling as he ripped the fridge door off it’s hinges

And tossed it across the room.

The cat barely escaped with her life,

Dashing around him and out the kitchen door

As he proceeded to unleash hell.

***

When his wife crept timidly down the stairs and into the kitchen,

He was sitting on the one unbroken stool by the counter.

Cupboards had been pulled right off the wall,

Their contents scattered all about the room.

The once white tablecloth looked like the victim

Of an arts & crafts class for three-year-olds,

The table itself was broken in half

And the glass oven doors had been shattered.

She stared, dumbfounded, at her husband.

“We’re out of milk,” he said.