It's a far cry from the usual hum-drum afternoon, but having fire rain down from the sky isn't exactly the change of pace I was looking for. However, I suppose you make due -- when life gives you lemons... Mom always knew the right clichés. She'd know what to say now. Not like my wife. She's running around the backyard, screaming to the kids, "Get inside! Get inside!" What good is that going to do anyone? I'll just stand here, watch the burning. There's nothing anyone can do. Maybe I'll have a scotch. Ugh, I hate scotch. I think that's why my wife's asshole Father gets it for me every Christmas. But I have a bottle here, and there's no way I'm going to make it to the liquor store.
Not bad. It could be worse. The kids are just lying there, curled up in the fetal position, and Maggie doesn't have the strength to lift them. I could. I could haul the two in here under each arm. Then what? We sit in the house, probably down in the basement, waiting for the house to burn down around us. That's right Maggie, why are you bringing the kids into a place that will burn? Because you're a stupid cunt. Ten years of my life wasted... that's not fair. The first two were pretty good. Before the kids. Now...
My wife calls me Dad. Or Daddy. It's fucking creepy. I'm not either. I'm Jim. Your husband, Jim. Remember him? The guy you used to give handjobs to at the movies; the man who ate your pussy while you watched fireworks on the fourth; the person you loved. Dad. I know some freaks like it called out during sex -- not me -- but I can't think of a more desexualizing word. Dads don't fuck, don't get wasted (well, bad dads do, or so I've been told, but I'm thinking 50s mythical fathers.), don't do anything except care for the kids. And that's the thing. All of a sudden we aren't two people in love, but two people whose sole responsibility is taking care of two other people too stupid to survive. Yeah, they'll get smarter, and that's about the time they turn into smartasses, talking shit all the time. I know I did. Fucking future bastards.
Now she's just holding them, covering them with her body. Great idea Maggie. I'm sure their mother screaming in agonizing pain as she burns alive around them will not scar the kids for life. And what are you protecting them for? I've still got a feeling Brad is going to grow up to be a date rapist. He's got that look. He may be five now, but the future is grim. And Mark is gay. I don't care, he can suck all the cock he wants, but there's a whole rough time ahead I don't want to have to deal with. The only thing I could tell him is, "You didn't do anything wrong, but it's a world full of assholes, son. And they will always outnumber you. Just remember, one day they'll all be dead." That's not the kind of advice you can give a kid. I mean, you can but people get pissed about it.
Oh shit, her hair's on fire. I should probably get the hose... I am actually getting used to the taste of this scotch. No jokes. I'm surprised.... the fire alarms are going off, and I can smell smoke. Better to just let the family burn now. No reason giving anyone a false sense of hope.
Not bad. It could be worse. The kids are just lying there, curled up in the fetal position, and Maggie doesn't have the strength to lift them. I could. I could haul the two in here under each arm. Then what? We sit in the house, probably down in the basement, waiting for the house to burn down around us. That's right Maggie, why are you bringing the kids into a place that will burn? Because you're a stupid cunt. Ten years of my life wasted... that's not fair. The first two were pretty good. Before the kids. Now...
My wife calls me Dad. Or Daddy. It's fucking creepy. I'm not either. I'm Jim. Your husband, Jim. Remember him? The guy you used to give handjobs to at the movies; the man who ate your pussy while you watched fireworks on the fourth; the person you loved. Dad. I know some freaks like it called out during sex -- not me -- but I can't think of a more desexualizing word. Dads don't fuck, don't get wasted (well, bad dads do, or so I've been told, but I'm thinking 50s mythical fathers.), don't do anything except care for the kids. And that's the thing. All of a sudden we aren't two people in love, but two people whose sole responsibility is taking care of two other people too stupid to survive. Yeah, they'll get smarter, and that's about the time they turn into smartasses, talking shit all the time. I know I did. Fucking future bastards.
Now she's just holding them, covering them with her body. Great idea Maggie. I'm sure their mother screaming in agonizing pain as she burns alive around them will not scar the kids for life. And what are you protecting them for? I've still got a feeling Brad is going to grow up to be a date rapist. He's got that look. He may be five now, but the future is grim. And Mark is gay. I don't care, he can suck all the cock he wants, but there's a whole rough time ahead I don't want to have to deal with. The only thing I could tell him is, "You didn't do anything wrong, but it's a world full of assholes, son. And they will always outnumber you. Just remember, one day they'll all be dead." That's not the kind of advice you can give a kid. I mean, you can but people get pissed about it.
Oh shit, her hair's on fire. I should probably get the hose... I am actually getting used to the taste of this scotch. No jokes. I'm surprised.... the fire alarms are going off, and I can smell smoke. Better to just let the family burn now. No reason giving anyone a false sense of hope.
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