The Angry Man

There was an angry man who lived at the bottom of a mountain. His name was forgotten and he yelled it at all the trees that got in his way. The angry man woke up every morning and cursed the sun for waking him up. He started his day by throwing rocks into the river. He hated the ground for being so cold during those early hours of the morning. The angry man was always tired and that made him sick. He eventually became so sick that he started seeing everything tainted red because of his tired eyes. He rubbed his eyes hard and shouted because of this. All his rubbing and shouting just made everything redder. The angry man reacted like a well-bred bull to the redness,he charged down the objects in his sight and exerted all the strength he had apon them. One day the angry man wanted to make the river that flowed from the mountain stop. Due to his impaired sight the flowing river did not look like a river should look. It was instead a gushing redness. He started as he always did, by shouting at the flowing red river. He mustered up all his strength and yelled until he fell over. The river flowed on like a defiant animal. His yelling did however attract a local smogsor. The smogsor is like a bear but afraid of nothing not even the ravings of an angry lunatic. The angry man did not notice the smogsor. The angry man decided to try collapse a section of the river bank. So he started to jump up and down stamping his feet and pounding his fists on the earth. While he angry man jumped the smogsor approached. The smogsor has the ability to quieten its breathing when approaching potential prey, not that that was necessary with the racket that was filling the valley. The smogsor is by no means a high-speed hunter but their fur is colored like the brown of winter found on these mountains. The smogsor also lacks any definable scent and so most prey are caught unaware of its presence. The angry man began to see the river-bank fall away into the river below. The dry brown clouded the water and made the flowing redness that the angry man saw even darker. This pleased the angry man. Nothing pleased the angry man more than destruction. By now the smogsor was clumsily lumbering down the hill behind the angry man. If anyone had been able to see the eyes of the smogsor they would have seen pity and regret. Pity for this angry man, pity that he would die all alone in the mountains trying to fight with a river as old as time. The smogsor regretted that he had woken up and walked east that morning. East had lead him to this angry man. West may have lead him to a more enjoyable meal. But the smogsor had gone east and now he must kill and eat the angry man. By this point the angry man had managed to collapse 3/4s of the section of river bank he was jumping on. He had already eyed out another section of the bank which looked susceptible to collapse. However before he could rush off to destruction the smogsor grabbed the angry mans leg in his mouth. The angry man was thrown to the ground.

‘The Hills! The Hills are killing me!!’ the angry man screamed as the smogsor ate him. All that was left of the angry man was his rib-cage concealing his heart. The smogsor would not risk eating the heart of a creature so angry.