Tina from Anger Management

"A chair is not nice to get thrown at your ear" said Eric.
The group repeated his words solemnly, like robots, clearly without passion, or with understanding.
He smiled sheepishly, seemed satisfied with their progress, at least they were not beating each other up, or calling each other names anymore. I looked over at Tina. She was not moving at all. Her head was even more round and plump than before, somehow it seemed to be swelling. Her eyes slowly increasing their size, her face gaining a deeper red.

It was too late when I discovered that her knuckles were whitening and that she was whispering curses under her breath. I honestly didn't think about warning anyone else, I was keene on saving my own bony ass by diving across the circle of chairs, and hiding behind Pete, the whale-guy.

By the time I had reached Pete's swetty behind, Tina was leaping across the ring once again, a fist above her head, prepared to strike. What drama, I thought. Tina was always that dramatic.

She was about the size of a taxi, her hair tight up in a blonde ponytail. Her nose was lightly specked with tiny freckles, but as she was always upset or angry, those were rarely visible through a plum-red frown.

- "Tina!" Eric called. I couldn't understand how he had the time to do so, being buried underneath her huge body only half a second later. I can recall hearing thumps and thuds, but I can't think of a way that Tina could actually strike Eric at all, as when she sat on his skinny body, she wasn't just covering the whole of him, but also major parts of the floor. Pete stood up from his chair. He was the calmest one of them, and to be frank, I have never seen him angry, not even slightly agitated. His mood seems to be deep down under his fat. He doesn't even smile, never seen him do it. Never.

With a bear paw, Pete grabbed Tina's shoulder and pulled her up from the floor. How, I have no idea, and once again he impressed me with his blatant calmness, even as Tina was pounding away at his chest with blunt fists, crying. Without a speck of emotion he led her swiftly back to her chair and pushed her down into the seat. Tina covered her eyes with her sausage fingers and was shaking in whimpers. Pete then lifted little Eric from the floor. His suit was slightly crumpled, but he himself, seemed to hold such a deep calm, he seemed even more down to earth than Pete.

He couldn't say anything, because as he opened his mouth, his mobile phone let out that liberating "pling!" - meaning the class was over. Tina, with a startling speed for her size, blurted out some words I shall not repeat, before storming out and thundering down the hallway. The room would then rapidly thin out, before it would be completely empty.

I took the bus home, gasping for breath in the tiny passenger seat, feeling a seizure of claustrophobia was attacking me, gulping down unhealthy amounts of asthma medication and stuffing my face with many a colourful pill, when I thought that:
whatever these Anger Management courses were giving me, it wasn't curing anything but my thirst to write a blog.