Cynthia threw the last mug that the cupboard held. She had much to be angry about.
"YOU SON-OF-A-BANANA BOAT CAPTAIN!" she screeched on the top of her voice. "How the hell could you?"
Her rant continued for what seemed like five minutes, when in actuality it was more like ten.
J.P. had no response to her tirade; he didn't move a muscle. He was totally unconscious.
"If you think that you're just going to lay there bleeding, you have another guess coming!" Cynthia wound down. "GET UP!"
J.P. started to stir...