The rain tapped quietly against the window. I sat, book in hand, thumbing through some self-important philosophy. Subjectivity this, illusions that. "What ever happened to good old ethical hedonism?", I thought, taking another sip of my wonderful wine.
Clattering downstairs. Loud noises. Throngs of children screaming. Baby crying. Spongebob. Loud pitter-patter of footsteps outside my study door. Have they no decency?!
Shaking my head, I lowered it back to the book. I don't know why I even bother reading these things. Everything I ever needed to know, I learned in one of two places. An alley or an orgy. It just so happens that a combination of the two resulted in my being stuck with these dreaded children for the week.
I felt a deep disturbance in my stomach. I lurched forward, clutching desperately to both the book and my rumbling gut. The book fell from my hand and struck the ancient wood of the floor loudly as I lurched forward from my chair, to my knees.
Laughter echoed in my ears. Dark figures. Vengeance.
Those little fuckers put ipecac in my wine. Again.
The world had never known such wrath and spank the likes of which occured on that fateful night. | 
