That one that you hammer onto the keys.
You know the one. You’re pissed off as all hell but every point you make is precise. Like a laser-guided scalpel. And witty.
Aren’t we all witty in that moment before hitting “Send”?
I want to send that email right now. It’s been brewing – well, maybe festering – for days now and it’s like The Alien, ready to burst out of me and to smash into your inbox like the Acme anvil on Wile E.’s head.
It’s the email that tells you in no uncertain terms just exactly what I think of you and it’s perfect.It’s perfect and I will have the ultimate satisfaction of ceremoniously clicking that button right… fucking… now.
That satisfaction will probably last about a parsec before “OMG, OMG, OMG!! What the HELL did I just do?!”