- I am running/bicycling at night and see a man taking out a cigarette a little ways ahead. I grab my sports bottle and squeeze some of the drink into my mouth, but do not swallow. As I approach the man, he ignites a lighter, and I spit my entire mouthful at him. This is made more interesting by the fact that it was not water but kerosene. I continue running/bicycling along as he smolders behind me. There is no reason for me to do this; I have nothing against smokers.
- I pick my still-running monitor off my desk and heave it at whatever coworker is bothering me that day. Defying logic, it is not caught short by its own cords, but tears its cabling out of the back of the PC, sparking majestically as it soars through the air and crashes down onto the head of my victim.
- I see a small child run from between two parked cars into the path of a slowly moving, but still deadly, truck. I rush to save her and either a) grab her up and jump onto the hood of the truck as it screeches to a halt or b) toss her back into the arms of her mother and get the hell beat out of me by the truck, not dead, but with a good bit of hero badging.
- One day I simply do not return to work after my lunch break, turn my cell phone off and read a book in the park. The violent part? While I am out the place burns down, merely by coincidence. I am under suspicion, but nothing can be proved and I even end up with a nice sum from a slander settlement.
- For a day I lose all inhibitions and, whenever someone annoys me, I punch them full in the mouth.
- Whenever I’m at a party or bar, people all dancing and jostling around, drunk out of their minds, I get the feeling I could just go up, knife the coifed hair frat boy in the kidneys and walk out before anyone noticed.
- Various daydreams of violent vigilantism after reading police dispatch records and/or visiting Megan’s Law related websites.
- Being given 11 months to live and, with nothing to lose, impossibly killing my way up the various food chains of the Yakuza, Russian and Italian mafias and other organized crime syndicates, sparing the families that run relatively clean operations (black market, drugs, gambling, smuggling) so an anarchistic hole isn’t left when I wipe out the others (white slave traders, snuff/child pornographers, those that needlessly harm innocents). Often this involves my ingestion of a particular cocktail of drugs (steroids, speed, PCP) which give me an edge that frequently results in frightening amounts of brutish torture, such as leaping on someone’s shoulders from behind and tearing their head off with my bare hands.
- Being physically attacked by someone in a public place (normally an ex-boyfriend of my wife’s) even after trying diplomacy. In self defense I am forced to do a side step, stomp through his kneecap and then tear his eyes out with my thumbs, as that is the only way to insure against future attacks by this assailant. Sometimes I also shatter his wrist.
- After a cell-phone talking tailgater finally passes me, I see them smash into the overpass far enough ahead to avoid debris, but near enough that it is unsafe to stop suddenly and I can instead pull off and park at a nearby gas station/rest stop and watch the proceedings.
Yes, I have anger and stress issues.
10 violent fantasies I recurrently have: