The first three times I tried to be kind and not get upset upon finding the tell-tale signs on my front porch left by the vagrants. Armed with only a broom I swept away their mess. It must have ticked them off. I bet they told their friends and they banded together in a conspiracy to get me. Tonight, after the sun had melted into the horizon, I opened my front door to find dozens of them. They were joyfully partying, dancing in and out of the shadows cast from the landscaping lights.
They didn’t even have the decency to apologize or look embarrassed while making themselves at home without the benefit of an invitation. My eyes shot daggers, which they blatantly ignored. I cursed in a gravelly voice telling voice them that they were trespassing. They did not acknowledge me. Didn’t even pause.
“No more!”, I mentally screamed, “You have smacked me in the face one time too many!”. One by one, I knocked them down and as each one floundered on the cold concrete I ruthlessly stomped on them without remorse. Finished, I wiped my shoes on the dewy grass to remove the gore. I went back into my home and ever so gently closed the door.