I like how those still-water colored eyes watching my moves like I'm a crazed teacup-sized juggernaut, like in one moment I'd saw my arms off if you let me be unsupervised for a moment, or jump off this high tower building thing just to see you distraught by the railing.

You had some condition with your organs, few of 'em, I think you said your heart was one- and thus you plead me to be gentle. I nod in display but mentally I shook my head. I still wonder if you know what kind of boardgame you've let yourself into.

I've warned you, by the velvet couch in the corner of the bar. Girls are pretty and fun! Girls and their soft virgin skin would be a perfect heaven-made pillow substitute when you wake up after a drunk, drunk night and loud, loud marriage of sexes born of different decades.

But you didn't listen. You didn't listen when I asked you to stop. You didn't listen when your wife's hitched breath realizing the merlot's ain't only in her mouth. The same when you didn't listen your daughter planned your demise under-you said-the anguish of teen angst.

Someone like you must've had generational life insurance policy... And I've seen the look in your wife's eyes, and the scars in your daughter's arm.

I think they have a plan to follow through. Now if you excuse me, I'm a little tired of hopping around. Can I watch the show by the side?