The kid next door is a creepy article. I was woken this morning by her screeching "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!" in faux operatic style as she swung with what could only be described as a vengeance on her garden swing. She seems possessed of a violent energy, not youthful exuberance or anything like it but a barely contained malice - like that kid in the Exorcist right before her head spins and she pukes pea soup all over the shop. (I was going to include a picture but they were all too scary). Her treehouse conveniently overlooks our patio so an otherwise pleasant morning spent reading in the garden is ruined by the uneasy suspicion that there's an evil 9 year old lurking in the foliage above your head, reading your unhip science fiction novel study notes over your shoulder.
It's not off the ground she licks it. Her dad is so annoying that my siblings and I now have Ade-Alert, an alarm system* that triggers if he's lurking when one of us goes to leave the house, or if he's passing by and peering in the sitting room window. Which he does a lot. It took me a while to put my finger on who it was he reminds me of and then this morning as his rictus grin drifted past the window again it came to me - Ted, the robotic Bluebeard from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know - my pop culture references are impossibly cool.
It's been an sickeningly long bank holiday weekend; I've been on study leave from work since last Wednesday and am edging ever closer to panic and madness. One more hissed hellooooooo from the treehouse will tip me over and all they'll find of the child will be her shoes.
*When I say "system" I mean of course that one of us spots him and feigns panic, whispering "Ade-Alert" repeatedly until we've all ducked and run for cover. Because talking to him would result in a slow painful death, or a nasty rash at the very least. We're 27, 26 and 22.
It's not off the ground she licks it. Her dad is so annoying that my siblings and I now have Ade-Alert, an alarm system* that triggers if he's lurking when one of us goes to leave the house, or if he's passing by and peering in the sitting room window. Which he does a lot. It took me a while to put my finger on who it was he reminds me of and then this morning as his rictus grin drifted past the window again it came to me - Ted, the robotic Bluebeard from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know - my pop culture references are impossibly cool.
It's been an sickeningly long bank holiday weekend; I've been on study leave from work since last Wednesday and am edging ever closer to panic and madness. One more hissed hellooooooo from the treehouse will tip me over and all they'll find of the child will be her shoes.
*When I say "system" I mean of course that one of us spots him and feigns panic, whispering "Ade-Alert" repeatedly until we've all ducked and run for cover. Because talking to him would result in a slow painful death, or a nasty rash at the very least. We're 27, 26 and 22.
