The Man Sat Docile

The man sat docile, slumped
in the soft, leather
recliner, feet

on the ottoman staring at
a laptop computer
perched pre-

cariously on his ample lap.
Then, seemingly out
of nowhere, he

shot out of the chair, holding
the computer in one
hand, waving it

violently like an awkward axe
and spewed forth
a barrage

of profanity aimed at the
man’s host who sat dumb-
founded and

shocked at the outburst of
his friend. Moments
later nothing,

a return to docility, passivity —
nothing but everything
and then again, in

a much greater sense — nothing.
The host plays it over
and over trying

to get it straight, right,
something after
asking,

“What?” and again, “What?”
The friend gives
nothing. The

friend’s wife offers a salvo
to hopefully save some-
thing, “Oh, he gets

this way.” The passive/aggressive
way? The host never saw
the demon coming.

He’ll be watching.

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