The Punch

Think about it. The hand gets formed into a ball, a target is picked and this “I want to hurt you” missile  gets delivered with malice and aforethought. To your face. To your ego. To your soul.
Made even more painful when delivered by a parent, a sibling or a close friend.

Movies tell you it’s OK to use this brutal form of communication to show someone you’re not happy with them. The benign Hollywood punch makes a funny noise fabricated by a sound engineer and the recipient hardly ever bleeds and quickly recovers.

But a real punch, intentionally  delivered from the north, by the huge hand of someone who’s name you were given at birth, with his body well behind it, leaves a scar that lingers well beyond this lifetime.

Like a demented Hallmark card, it’s the thought that counts. And haunts.

Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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