Tempest
Fucking fuming is an understatement.
I got fired. FIRED. For laying that s**t for brains out.
It was my second day. That has got to be a new record. I should sue him and shut that place down.
“I’m never eating there again!” I yell, punching the bag hanging from the ceiling. It’s heavy so it doesn’t sway. I bring my foot around and kick it and hit it with three more jabs. “I’m never even walking past there again!” I spin and kick but it’s clumsy and I fall onto my side.
Hopping back up using my shoulders, I launch some more controlled jabs on the bag.
“Who do they think they are? He grabbed my arse!”
So, screaming at a punching bag, alone, in a gym in the room behind the garage isn’t probably the best way to announce my sanity to the world. But it is how I cope. It’s ho
