The Photo Frame.

Ok so we're 3 months into this whole Teenage terror stuff and I'm already wishing for a time machine. I remember what it was like when I was 13, mainly because it wasn't that long ago (8 years to be exact), and of course I had my melodramatic moments where I threw a few beloved stuffed animals around and cursed the names of the parents that dared to parent me from time to time but neither I, nor the loved ones around me recall a tantrum thrower anywhere near as dramatic as the one we are currently forced to deal with.

I'll just cut to the chase, a photo frame has been broken, a memory shredded, a finger (mine of course), now has glass in it. Basically my dearest sister went on a rampage the result being the death of a very expensive photo frame (and a precious moment frozen in time blah blah blah) but if it wasn't at all obvious, what I was most upset about was the frame itself (call me materialistic if you will).

When I think about the events of that day, I'd like to say I never saw it coming but I'd be attempting to lie to both myself and to you dear reader. For you see, there was something in the air that fateful day, something that told me hearts would be broken and glass would be shattered. And that something was the mood of the house, allow me to explain. You might have one (or if you're really unlucky, several) persons in your house who can set the tone or the mood of the entire household, no? (Lucky sod). In our household that position lies with our beloved matriarch, and also lies with my sister too and put the two together and you have yourself a car wreck with a total of two drivers, 5 passengers and 3 victims. This was the very case that day, an argument had begun in the kitchen over the exact details in the contract regarding a one 13 year old sociopath's grounding. I'm not entirely sure why my parents bother to defend their reasoning as to why actions have consequences since they are facing off against a 13 year old (and as a recently liberated ex-teen I can say that we rarely listen to reason) but defend her case she did. Unlucky for my mother, my sister is the most persistent of whiners and will follow her victim all around the house until they throw themselves at her mercy, hands over ears as a further sign of submission.

Gradually the arguing got louder and my sister, finally realising it was hopeless to fight, turned her attention to our parent's room. To cut an unnecessarily long story short. I heard yelling, thumping and the eventual shattering of glass. When I came upon the scene the culprit had fled and I was more than a little dismayed to find the debenhams' christmas present I had given our mother in pieces on the ground.

Sometimes her crimes are victimless, this was not one of those times. But I think we all learned a valuable lesson that day, don't piss off a 13 year lunatic when there are breakable objects anywhere near by because she will break them, her conscience as clear as her pre-pubescent face.

The Gate.

Ok. So the day started out pretty normally. And by normally I mean with arguing and by arguing I mean shouting.(Oh and door slamming, lots and lots of door slamming).Right back to it, so my dearest siblings were screaming at the top of their lungs at one another.

 And while loud humans is not particularly out of the ordinary, hearing my brother and sister actually communicating with one another without (me) the interpreter present in very rare. Let me put it to you this way, if my brother and sister were leaders of countries in the U.N, we'd have some serious communicative issues and several assassination attempts under our belts. I know what you're thinking, not my problem, right? Wrong. It became my problem when their caffufle woke me up.

I like to think of myself as a night owl, meaning in my case not a morning person also meaning that anyone brave (or stupid enough) to disturb me from my late morning slumber is laying their life down at my feet. And just what pray tell was so world shattering, so anger inducing as to cause such a mid morning raucous? A gate. That's right folks, they were arguing about a gate. A broken gate and this all mighty gate that was central to the disagreement was broken by my younger sister whilst making an attempt to enter the property (less formally known as, the back yard or garden if you're fancy).

I hear you friend when you say, 'but dear storyteller, what does this have to do with your brother and sister's argument?' And I believe you would be dead right. However, in order to understand why there would be an argument instead of a request for help of the fixing the broken gate variety, you must understand that we have on our hands not any normal 13 year old girl but a teenage sociopath (ok well maybe that was made clear by the blog name but still) And the 13 year old sociopath does not look to acquire help when making a mess of things but instead sees fit to lay the ultimate blame at someone else's (in this case my brother's feet).

Let us please follow the wonderful path of logic given when I crawled downstairs to play mediator. The conversation went a lot like this.

Me: Why are you shouting?

13yr Sociopath: THE GATE'S BROKEN!

Brother a.k.a victim: YOU BROKE IT!

13yr Sociopath: YEAH BECAUSE YOU WOULDN'T LET ME IN!

Me: Well where's your key?

13yr Sociopath: I'VE LOST IT

And that is where she lost me. The little sociopath was basically claiming that the primary cause of her using brute force to open the back gate was not infact her inability to find her key but instead was because my brother who lives in the attic and is deaf as a doorpost (mum's words not mine), was unable to hear her. Now of course another blow to her defence is that every member of our household has a key, a key that is their responsibility to keep in their possession. Of course to a 13 year old sociopath who has no grasp of what actual responsibility is because she has been catered to her entire life, the word responsibility might as well mean any of the other following words she has never heard of. Grace, modesty, selflessness, self awareness, respect, honesty. I could go on (and I will). Kindness, intelligence, common decency etc.

The main point is, that I was woken up much sooner than I wanted to be because my sister is an idiot.