He’s looking right at me. He knows he’s guilty but there’s this nonchalant, smartass look on his face that just sends me into a fury.
Wait a second, is that a smirk on his face? It better not be.
The room around him, my room, is a battlefield of belongings strewn about carelessly. My clothes are all torn from their drawers, which hang open and falling from the cheap wooden dresser, and scattered across the floor. There’s a wetness to some of them which I can only pray is water –I pray for his sake of course –and as I see this I also notice the overflowing toilet. Ah the old towel trick: stuffing and flushing. I remember when I used to do that. Classic.
Jack’s only upset because he’s grounded –bad grades and the like –and this is his way of getting back at me, I suppose. He wants to “show me who’s boss”. Unfortunately for him, I am the overlord here and now he’s gone and made the boss angry