Reason Number 78 Why I Am Going to Hell

As you all know by now, there have been some relatives staying at our house. Less than I originally thought, yet still more than I feel comfortable with and definitely more than I want to have here. You also know that I call them by the affectionate name of "The Unwanted". Well, the damn Unwanted are the cause for reason number 78 why I am going to hell.

As any normal person trying to make a passive aggressive point about not wanting to have any interaction with some people and wishing they had not invaded his house, I have kept to my room most of the time since the Unwanted got here. However, that does not ensure that they will not bother me and get on my nerves as I do have to leave my room on occasion. One such occasion was the other day. I walked out of my room to get some dinner and found the Unwanted sitting at the dinner table. Of course, I have been having all my meals in my room to allow for minimum interaction but while I fixed my dinner the Unwanted Boy started asking me questions. It went as follows:

Unwanted Boy: "Do you wanna play soccer?"

Me: "No."

UB: "Why not?"

Me: "Because I don't like it."

UB: "Why don't you like it?"

Me: "I just don't."

UB: "So, when do you wanna play?"

Me: "I don't wanna play."

UB: "But there is grass outside so it's gonna be nice for us to play."

Me: "I don't wanna play."

(At this point, his sister, Unwanted Girl 2, chimes in)

Unwanted Girl 2: (to UB) "You don't even have a soccer ball."

UB: (to UG2): "Well, we can go buy one." (to me) "When we get a ball, will you play soccer then?"

Me: "I don't like soccer and, regardless of whether you ever get a ball or not, I will never, ever, play soccer with you. Ever!"

So I might have been a bit brusque, but keep in mind that during this grueling grilling, their mom, the Unwanted Aunt, just sat there saying nothing. The next day, I was airing my grievances out to The Co-Worker and she asked me how old Unwanted Boy was. I do not know his age, but my immediate reply was "Too old already, he should have died at birth. Unwanted bastard should have been a stillbirth." Upon uttering those words, I realized that I had stumbled into one more reason why I am going to hell. Not only had I wished that someone had been a stillbirth, but I had wished a relative of mine, and a mere boy at that, had been a stillbirth.

This is great therapy and, probably, the best idea I have ever had for short posts. Hopefully, you guys won't get to hate me. If anything, this should make me more human. Till the next installment of the reasons I am going to hell.