I planned the murders meticulously. I bided my time until late at night when everyone in the house was asleep. I tiptoed into the kitchen and pulled a steak knife from the block on the counter. The light from the range hood glinted eerily on the serrated blade. Swiftly, I went into the living room and found my first victim. One stab with the knife, and it was all over. I cornered my next victim and it too was quickly dispatched. Soon the floor was littered with limp bodies. I cleaned up the mess.
Crap, I hate getting rid of the left-over birthday balloons. I tried to suggest to the girls that they play that game where you sit on the balloons and try to pop them with your bum, but they want to keep the balloons. All of them. Leah might actually have named them. So every night this week, I'll cull the remaining balloons a few at a time, so that they don't notice that the balloons are gone all at once. Oh, I'll leave them a couple to play with, but there really is no need to have a living room full of balloons now the party is over. I am merciless and cold-blooded that way.