The college classroom had rows of desks facing a poster on the wall that promised Conflict Resolution Through Communication. At the front of the class was a printed sign taped to the podium that read “ANGER MANAGEMENT CLASS, PLEASE WAIT FOR INSTRUCTOR.”
A dozen adults sat scattered across the room, all of them wearing the same bitter expression. Some were in work boots. Some in office clothes. One guy had a security uniform shirt half tucked. A woman in yoga pants kept checking her phone. A man near the back drummed his fingers against the desk.
A heavy sigh came from the front row.
Derrick: This is stupid.
Maya: This is court mandated.
Janice: I called three times to confirm. Nobody answers the phone. This place is run by clowns.
Karen sat with her arms crossed tightly. She had a crisp blouse, perfect hair, and a glare that scanned the room for someone to blame.
Karen: Some of us have jobs. Real jobs. Not whatever this is.
Maya: Lady, we all have jobs.
Karen: I did not address you.
The guy in the security shirt let out a quiet laugh and immediately regretted it when Karen’s eyes snapped to him.
Karen: And you think that is funny?
Security Guy: I think you’re a lot.
Karen: Excuse me!?
Then the door swung open with a crash that slammed the wall and bounced back with a heavy clatter. The sound jolted everyone upright. Phones disappeared. Backs went straight. A couple of people actually gasped.
Anthrax stood in the doorway, an ankle-length black coat over an Animaniacs T-shirt. His face was painted jagged, smeared white and black and chipped away. Black polish on his nails. Even Karen was speechless at the sight of this.. thing.
Anthrax entered the classroom and walked straight to the podium. He did not go in front of it. He went behind it, like he belonged there.
He grabbed the taped sign, crumpled it in one fist, and tossed it into the corner. Then he placed both hands on the edges of the podium, leaned forward, and smiled at the class.
Anthrax: Good! You’re all here!
Maya: Who are you?
Elliot: Where’s the instructor?
Karen: This is highly inappropriate. I demand to speak to whoever is in charge!
Anthrax: You are speaking to whoever is in charge.
Derrick: What is this, a prank?
Anthrax: No. A prank would be funny for everyone. This is funny for me.
Janice: I am not signed up for this. I am not consenting to this.
Anthrax: You showed up. That is consent in the adult world.
Maya: That is not how consent works.
Anthrax: Sure it is. It is how everything works. You do what they tell you, you sit where they put you, you keep your hands folded, you swallow your words, you pretend you are fine. And then they drag you into a room like this and tell you anger is the problem.
He stepped away from the podium and began to pace in front of the class, head slightly tilted, like he was studying specimens.
Anthrax: Look at you. You are full of resentment. All that pressure behind your eyes. All that heat in your heart. You are a shaken soda can just waiting to erupt!
Derrick: This is not helpful.
Anthrax: Helpful. That word tastes like surrender. Helpful is what people say when they want you soft.
Karen: I will be contacting the dean. The board. The police.
Anthrax: Call whoever you want. Tell them Anthrax is teaching class. Tell them the class is finally honest.
He stopped, planted his boots, and opened his arms like a preacher.
Anthrax: Anger is not a disease. Anger is a signal flare. Anger is the part of you that still believes you deserve better. It is your body screaming that something is wrong, and you keep trying to gag it with breathing exercises and polite language.
Maya: The breathing exercises are to keep you from punching someone.
Anthrax: Maybe someone needs punching.
A few people shifted, suddenly unsure if they were supposed to laugh or leave. Nobody moved. That was the worst part. They all stayed.
Anthrax: You ever watch a volcano in a documentary? They show it like it is a disaster. Like it is evil. The volcano is doing what it was built to do. It releases. It clears. It reshapes the land.
He tapped his chest once, hard, right over his heart.
Anthrax: That is you. That is me. You’re not here because you have anger. You’re here because you got caught having anger.
Security Guy: That is kind of true.
Karen: I did not get caught. I was provoked.
Anthrax: Everybody thinks they were provoked. Nobody thinks they are the problem. That is adorable.
He leaned closer to the front row, his painted face inches nearer, voice steady but hungry.
Anthrax: Here’s the lesson. Losing your temper is not failure. Losing your temper is release. It is honesty. It is the only moment some of you are real.
Elliot: That is not what the paperwork says.
Anthrax: The paperwork has never been punched in the mouth. The paperwork does not wake up at 3 a.m. with its jaw clenched so hard it feels like its teeth are fracturing.
Janice: Okay, but what if you lose your temper and you ruin your life?
Anthrax: You already hate your life. You are just doing it quietly.
Janice: I do not hate my life!
Anthrax: You’re in anger management in a college classroom on a weekday. Lie to someone else.
That got a couple snorts. Janice’s cheeks reddened. She looked like she wanted to argue but did not want to give him the satisfaction.
Anthrax clapped his hands once, sharp, loud.
Anthrax: Participation time! Three of you. You! You! You!
He pointed randomly. The first was Derrick, the guy who had already called it stupid. The second was Maya, who had spoken like she wanted control. The third was Karen, and Anthrax’s smile widened when he chose her.
Karen: Absolutely not! I will not be singled out!
Anthrax: You are always singled out. It is your brand.
Maya: Ask me. Fine.
Derrick: Whatever! Let’s get it over with!
Anthrax: Derrick first. What makes you angry? Not the polite answer. The real one.
Derrick: My boss. He talks to me like I’m a dog. I do all the work. He takes all the credit. Then he calls me into his office and tells me I need to improve my attitude. My attitude! Like I’m the problem! I want to slam his head into his desk!
Anthrax: See. Poetry. You feel that? That is life. That is your spine trying to stand up.
Maya: You’re encouraging violence.
Anthrax: I’m encouraging truth. Violence is just one of truth’s hobbies.
He turned to Maya.
Anthrax: Your turn. What makes you angry?
Maya’s jaw tightened. She tried to keep it composed, but her eyes went sharp.
Maya: My ex. He tells everyone I’m crazy. He pushes buttons until I snap, then he records me, shows people, says see what I deal with! And I have to be calm, I have to be reasonable, or I prove his point! That makes me furious!
Anthrax: Yes. Yes. That is a cage. That is someone trying to write your story for you. And you’re trying so hard not to be the villain they need you to be.
Maya: Exactly!
Then he pivoted, theatrical, and faced Karen like she was the finale.
Anthrax: Alright, Karen. Your anger. Let’s hear it.
Karen: I do not need to explain myself to you!
Anthrax: You do not need to explain yourself to anyone. So tell me, Karen, what makes you angry?
Karen: People! People are incompetent! They do not do their jobs! They do not follow simple instructions! I ask for something basic, and they act like I’ve requested a miracle! I should not have to raise my voice for people to respect me, but if I don’t, they ignore me! So yes, I get angry. Because I am surrounded by idiots!
A silence fell that felt heavy. The familiarity of the type was profound. Anthrax looked at the class like he was about to show them a magic trick.
Anthrax: How many of you have met her before?
Hands did not go up, but faces tightened. Someone coughed. Someone shifted like they wanted to be anywhere else.
Anthrax: Let’s do this differently. How many of you have avoided her type before?
That got a few reluctant nods. A couple people glanced away. The security guy raised his eyebrows like he could not help it.
Karen: That is ridiculous! You are all projecting!
Anthrax: No. They’re remembering.
Karen: I am not the problem! They are weak! They can’t handle direct communication!
Maya: You call people idiots for fun.
Karen: Because they behave like idiots!
Derrick: You ever consider you make people worse?
Karen: Excuse me?
Derrick: Like, you come in hot, you treat them like garbage, then you get mad they don’t roll out a red carpet.
Karen: I have standards!
Janice: You have a personality disorder!
Karen: Oh, that is rich coming from someone who is wearing leggings in public!
Janice: These are yoga pants!
Karen: Exactly!
The room crackled. Everyone started talking at once, voices rising like a kettle reaching boil.
Maya: You don’t get to police what people wear!
Karen: People should have dignity!
Derrick: You don’t have dignity, you have entitlement!
Karen: Do not speak to me that way!
Security Guy: You speak to everybody else that way!
Karen: I pay taxes! Your job exists because of people like me!
Elliot: Your taxes don’t make you queen!v
Karen: I did not say queen! I said contributor!
Janice: You said idiot like eight times!
Karen: Because it’s accurate!
Anthrax stepped back, arms folding, watching it build with delighted patience. He had the expression of someone watching a fire take to dry wood.
Derrick: You should be removed!
Karen: I will not be threatened!
Derrick: Nobody’s threatening you! We’re just finally saying what we think!
Karen: That is not allowed in civil society!
Janice: Civil society is why we’re all miserable!
Elliot: Can we not do this?
Security Guy: Too late!
Karen stood up so abruptly her chair scraped the tile with a shriek. She pointed at Derrick like she was calling down a lightning bolt.
Karen: You are aggressive! You are exactly why you’re in this class!
Derrick: And you are exactly why people fantasize about quitting customer service!
Karen: You are disgusting!
Maya: Sit down before you make this worse!
Karen: You cannot order me around.
Janice: Nobody’s ordering you! We’re begging!
Karen: Begging is appropriate for you!
Janice made a sound that was half laugh, half growl.
Janice: Oh my God!
Derrick: Say something else about her clothes! Do it. I dare you!
Karen: At least I present myself like an adult!
Janice: You present yourself like a complaint!
Security Guy: That’s funny!
Karen swung toward him, eyes wide, face flushing.
Karen: You will wipe that smug look off your face!
Security Guy: Or what?
Karen: Or I will make a call!
Security Guy: Lady, the only call you need is a therapist!
That was the match.
Karen lunged, not with a punch, but with a slap that came out of pure reflex. The security guy leaned back too late. Her palm caught his cheek with a sharp crack.
For a heartbeat, the room froze.
Then the security guy stood up so fast his chair toppled backward, and he shoved Karen, sending her toppling back over the desk, ass up in the air!
Janice grabbed Karen’s arm, not to help her up, but to pull her away from the security guy. Karen whipped around and yanked Janice’s hair. Janice screamed and swung blindly, catching Karen in the jaw!
Karen: Help! Assault!
Elliot: Everyone stop!
But nobody stopped. Two guys in the back began arguing about who should intervene, and that argument turned into shoving!
Maya tried to wedge herself between Karen and Janice, all the better to play peacemaker in separate them but Karen shoved her aside!
Maya: Don’t touch me!
Maya grabbed Karen’s wrist and twisted, not enough to break anything, but enough to control. Karen yelped and flailed, and her flailing elbow caught Derrick in the ribs!
Derrick: Ow, you crazy…!
Derrick grabbed Karen by the upper arm and hauled her backward. Karen’s heel caught on a chair leg and she stumbled into the security guy again. The security guy, furious now, shoved her away!
Karen hit a desk, knocked it sideways, and books and pens clattered to the floor!
Elliot backed away, hands up!
Elliot: This is insane! This is actually insane!
Karen: You people are animals!
Security Guy: You’re the one slapping people!
Karen: Because you provoked me!
Maya: Nobody provoked you into being cruel for fun!
Karen: I am not cruel!
Janice: You are a walking Yelp review!
Chairs toppled like dominoes! Somebody got shoved into the whiteboard and it squealed against the wall!
Through all of it, Anthrax did not move to stop anything. He kicked his legs, heel tapping the desk in a happy rhythm.
Anthrax: Class dismissed.
The classroom floor was a mess of overturned chairs, scattered notebooks, and twelve grown adults. Some groan, some blink like they just woke up in a different life, and one person is facedown on a laminated syllabus like it is a pillow. That one would be Karen.
Anthrax stood in the front like the only student who got an A. His eyes flicker across the wreckage with satisfaction that looks almost gentle.
Anthrax: Look at that. Twelve people dragged in here to learn how to swallow a scream and all it took was one little push for them to remember they’re alive. I should get a plaque!
He hopped off the desk and practically skipped to the chalkboard, moving with that wrong kind of joy that does not match the scene at all. He yanked the pull cord and the projector screen snapped down with a rattle.
On it was a pin-up image of Liam Davis.
Anthrax: Ohhh, Liam. Look at you. All that tough-guy posture and clenched jaw dressed up like it means you’re in control. You walk around SCW like you invented anger. You already know what happens when something like you gets pressured. They love calling it anger management. That’s the lie they sell, and you didn’t buy it because you think it works. You bought it because you’re terrified of what you are when you stop pretending.
He nodded toward the bodies littering the floor as if they’re evidence.
Anthrax: These people came in here with their teeth clenched and their hands polite, and then they let go. They went feral for ten minutes and now look at them, peaceful and empty and honest. That’s what anger is supposed to do, it comes out, it burns, and it leaves you clean. But you, Liam, you keep it in until it curdles. You keep it in until it becomes something that doesn’t just want to protect you, it wants to embarrass you. It wants to betray you.
He tapped the image of Liam with a knuckle, voice turning intimate and cruel.
Anthrax: That’s the disadvantage. Your anger isn’t a weapon, it’s a crack in the dam, and the more you stand there telling yourself you have control, the bigger that crack gets.
He straightened, eyes bright with that delighted madness that turned the class into a riot.
Anthrax: Now let’s talk about your other little problem, the one you hate admitting because it makes you feel small. Clowns. You hear the word and your skin crawls. You see the painted smile and your brain starts screaming that something is wrong, because it is wrong. A clown is proof the world can be cruel and cheerful at the same time.
He gestured at his own smeared paint, the jagged black and white that made his face look like a nightmare trying to be art.
Anthrax: You ever notice how easy it is to laugh at something you’re scared of? That’s why the circus works, that’s why the mask works, that’s why your hands shake but you still pretend you’re fine.
Anthrax snatched a marker from the tray and he drew a big exaggerated smile where Liam’s mouth was, dark triangles under the eyes, messy lines like clown hair. When he stepped back, he clapped once, pleased.
Anthrax: There! Now you can look at yourself! At Blaze of Glory XV, you’re not just wrestling me, you’re wrestling the moment where both of your little problems collide. Anger you can’t release, fear you can’t explain, and me standing right in the middle like the punchline to a joke you never wanted to hear.
You can’t win this with muscle. You can’t win this with technique. You can’t win this with the little script you recite to yourself in the mirror, because the opponent isn’t me. The opponent is the moment your control fails you, and control always fails. You’re going to stand across from me and you’re going to see the paint and hear the laughter, and your anger is going to surge because you hate being seen. Your fear is going to surge because you hate being laughed at. And for one perfect second you’re going to feel both at once, like a knot tightening, like a noose you tied yourself. Then you’ll make a choice. You’ll explode, or you’ll freeze, and either way I’m going to enjoy watching it happen.
He looked into the camera and giggled.
Anthrax: Class dismissed.
