Cousins from Hell
A terrible thing is currently happening.
In my life, I have faced a great many perils. Pirates in pedaloes in the Dominican Republic, an irate Scotsmen in Glasgow. But non are comparable with what I am currently facing, getting ever worse and with no hope of escape.
For it is Easter, and so we are visiting The Cousins. Baby twins and a stubborn toddler is not exactly my idea of good company; little children are just so uncivilized. But there is no chance of keeping them at bay, for the elders insist that we ‘socialise’ with them. It usually takes about fifteen minutes before shell shock from the constant wails and shrieks sets in. Drinks are knocked over and a bead kit scattered across the floor. One of them crawls up and begins to chew on my leg, while the eldest mounts an attack upon some crisps, sticking them down its throat like a rabid creature. I think my hair is turning grey. At my side- my mother; looking pale and equally dazed. Our house is usually quiet and orderly, this place bears more resemblance to a lion pit at feeding time.
Even more sickening are the rose tinted glasses of their parents; perhaps it would be more bearable if they saw their beloved monsters for the mucus filled parasites that they are. I don’t hate little children or anything, most of them are fine. But The Cousins are different.