by Adam J. Whitlatch
No, it's not time for cake and ice cream yet; no, you can't open presents until Grandma and Grandpa get here; please don't bother that cat, he doesn't like strangers; no, you can't take the salamander out of his tank - because he sleeps during the day, that's why - what? - no, you can't buy him from me, I don't care how much money is in your piggy bank - oh, Hell's bells... who's been messing with my book and moved my bookmark? No, you can't go into my den; no, you can't play with my vintage action figures collection - because they're worth more in the box, that's why - leave the comic book alone... it's in a frame because it's worth three thousand dollars - no, you can't buy it from me, what are you the spawn of Sat- STEP AWAY FROM THE SWORDS, KID, I AM NOT MESSING AROUND ANYMORE! Okay, boys, it's time for cake and ice cream... boys... boys... BOYS... cake and ice cream... TURN OFF THE DAMN TELEVISION! Wow, that's an awesome present; no, you can't go play with it now, you have seven more to open; wow, cool Pokemon cards - what? - no, you can't buy that rare card from him... because you gave it to him, that's why; yes, you got another Indiana Jones birthday card... it's an Indiana Jones themed party; god damn it, leave that cat alone! Okay, boys, you pick out a movie while I pop the popcorn; no, I haven't seen the cat, go pick out a movie; no, you cannot watch The Return of the Living Dead, what kind of kid are y- no, you can't watch American Psycho; leave the damn cat alone; no, you can't watch Heavy Metal - yes, I know it's a cartoon, that's not the point; leave the cat al- are you happy now, you got scratched - you do not know how to take a hint, do y- wait, where the hell did you get a Scooby-Doo costume? Okay, boys, time for bed - kid, do not mess with me... my wife is a veterinarian and has access to horse tranquilizers; no, you cannot sleep with the cat - isn't that the same cat that just scratched you? - no, you can't sleep with the goddamned salamander; go to bed... bed... BED... ah, peace at last; I can hear you boys, I'm right next door - what's that, honey? - what do you mean "Let's have another baby?"
Adam J. Whitlatch's house has been overrun by a platoon of sugar-hyped third graders from Miskatonic Elementary. If you are reading this, please send help... and vodka. When his house is not plagued with psychotic eight-year-olds, Adam writes Science Fiction and Horror. He is working on his new novel-in-progress Letters from an Angel. (Adam's full 6S catalog can be found here.)