woman waits seething blooming

she is a single woman who has no interest in men, except for his son who by the way hasn't called. it's already 255 and he hasn't phoned since 545 that evening where he mentioned something about dinner over at his friend's place. and now she is watching reruns of bwitched on cable sipping her cup of tea, milk tea and thinking of hitting him with a baseball bat, no there's no baseball bat, or maybe golf club.She is picturing slapping her hands hard on his face and imagining what sound it would make that can make up for her unduly worry, her inability to sleep, the many thousands of dire thoughts that has torched her mind these past hours? Where is he? She wouldn't where he would go? and with whom? he's a loner, bookworm and eccentric. he is, she thinks, is the sort that goes out with deviant internet surfers and gets involved with them; but somehow she knows that he is safe that he is fine; except for whatever reason he hasn't been able to call or HAS NOT GIVEN MUCH THOUGHT ABOUT IT! he is testing his boundaries,perhaps and she will remind him of the repercussions of such thoughtlessness! And when she thinks of what she would say to him, and loudly she will say it,she feels a strange kind of pleasure. The pleasure is like that enjoyed when a body is overwhelmed by irritation and is passionately scratched. Giving herself up to that scratching - everywhere and furious which she does all the time cause she has some diabetic infectious lesions- was the most profound pleasure she has ever known. and now waiting for her son and knowing how righteous will be her indignation, how richly justified will be anything she yells into his irresponsible face, she finds herself waiting his arrival like a nocturnal ravenous awaiting a meal. She is nodding her head, tapping her foot as she tries to order her thoughts, trying to decide where is it to start with him. How general should her critisms be? Should they be specific to only this night? or should this be the door through which they pass to talk about all his failings? oh the possibilities! She will have the license to go anywhere, to say anything. she pours more tea into her cup now. she looks up and it 305am and she hears him fiddling with keys outside the door. this would be good, she thinks. this will be good. splendid, florid glorious; she will just scratch and scratch. She runs to the door for she simply can't wait to begin......