The Very Angry American

Once upon a time, there was A Very Angry American.

In September, she donated one hundred dollars to ActBlue

but she was Still Angry.

In October, she made two hundred phone calls for Hillary

but she was Sill Angry.

In November, she convinced three undecided voters to vote Democratic, but treason won over reason and Trump won, and she was Still Angry.

In December, she signed four bajillion Facebook petitions and blocked five FB friends who told her to chill out,

but she was Still Angry.

In January, she gained six pounds from stress eating, made approximately seven phone calls a day to various people in government, never slept eight hours a night anymore because she was too worked up, and made plans with nine friends to go to the March Against Trump, but she was Still Angry.

She did some Yoga, bought a larger size of elastic-waisted leggings, made a pot of lentil soup and climbed into bed for a power nap.

She dreamed metamorphosisal dreams of equality and peace and kindness and when she woke up, she was no longer A Very Angry American.

Well, yeah, of course she still was angry because Trump and the motherfucker Republicans in Congress. But her anger gave her hope. And energy. And an idea for a really good sign to hold in the march.

And she got out of bed.

And there were cookies baking in the oven. 

And she ate one cookie.

And she was ready to face the next four years.

 

Comments

[Hawi Moore]

Nice