"Click". I didn't expect the trumpets of

"Click". I didn't expect the trumpets of doom "click" to sound like this. But "click click click" you can never know. One moment you see the light at the end of the tunnel, next
it's just a broom closet with a fetid map. There was another click. They seemed to be coming faster. He smelled his own fear. He took the doorknob in his right hand and with
all his might tried to wrench the closet door open. No luck. The clicks were coming faster now, he was sure. He fumbled for his lighter and dropped it in the dark. Click click clic
He turned on the light and saw his father, in baggy white briefs, one ball leering out the side like a hag's eye, in his hand was the remote and he was clicking it, he
switched the lights off immediately, leaving his father in the blue glow of the television, thinking of place where parents were in pajamas and asleep at this time of night.
Yes, just one singular place where all the parents congregated in their pajamas after the crappy late shows were off and there was nothing to watch but a test pattern. There, they
complained to each other about how badly their kids had behaved during the day; not allowing a single thought towards self-reflection. Supernanny couldn't stand it anymore. 'Bad ch
eez-Whiz does this to children sometimes," she explained. "They get gaseous and cranky and when that happens, there is really only one course of action." Supernanny stuffed the
child into the oven and began counting to ten, all the while admonishing they're frightful table manners and threatening to set the dial to 350 degrees if they didn't learn to
lick the oven clean. It is as well known fact that children are best for cleaning ovens, sweeping chimneys or working in coal mines. Children without a job are unloved.

Started: 2011-02-23 14:45:56
Finished: 2012-11-23 09:23:50

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