Children at play

There's a preschool, complete with playground, behind my apartment building.  My apartment faces the back of the building, which is usually a blessing because it's nice and dark and quiet back here.  Except when the children are at play.

It's not a problem on the weekends, when the school is closed.  It's not a problem on holidays, or when it's snowing or there's an ice storm.  It's not a problem on days I have to be at work early.  But on days that I'm trying to sleep in, it's very much a problem.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate children?  I think I have.

It's a never-ending fucking cacophony of screaming, shrieking and laughter.  It echoes off the sides of the buildings and makes you want to kill yourself.  Lately they start around 10:15, two separate groups, ending around noon with a ten minute break in between.  This is when I lie desperately in bed with a pair of useless earplugs, constructing elaborate murder fantasies in my head.

Some days I imagine a six-ton anvil dropping from the sky directly onto the playground, instantly killing all stray children and bringing immediate peace and silence to the neighborhood.  These are the days I'm really tired and just want to get the fuck back to sleep.

Other days I imagine going down to the playground with a scythe and swinging it wildly about, terrifying the children and causing them to run about in circles, crying in terror.  The gate will be locked though, and there will be nowhere for them to go.  One by one, their heads will be chopped off, and I will stack them in a neat pile next to the swings.  Then I will go back upstairs and go back to sleep.

I also imagine tying all the children together with fishing line and forcing them to lie on the ground in a straight line.  I will then, one by one, go down the line with an aluminum baseball bat, smashing their skulls in until the ground is pink with blood and brains.  This would be messy, yet extremely satisfying. 

In today's fantasy, a group of invisible goblins came to slowly strangle the children while they played.  Their wails of agony and fear were extremely satisfying, as they could not see their attackers and therefore had no idea why it was suddenly so difficult to breathe.  I imagined their faces, twisted in horror and pain, their bodies flailing helplessly about.  This made me happy and I drifted back into a pleasant sleep, visions of invisible-goblin-assassins dancing in my head.