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  • My parents were preparing for a New Year's Eve party. I decided to go downstairs to my room and pull out my forty butter knives from under my bed. I shoved each knife into the gap between the door and the jamb to defend myself and so that no monsters could enter.
  • At midnight, the party had become wild, complete with cursing, screaming, singing, and gunshots. I was sleeping when I heard bodies hitting the walls and my father curse and cry out.
  • In hopes of bravely defending my father, I ran upstairs, armed only with one of my knives.
  • I was surprised to find my father with a friend playing a mixture of rugby, boxing, wrestling and Nerf basketball. I wasn't very scared, just mostly confused.
  • Both staggered toward me, but some drunk pulled me away before I got hurt or pushed over.
  • My father and his friend continued to wrestle until falling through the basement door and down the stairs. I was afraid that they had died so I ran to the top of the stairs to find them bruised and bloodied. Drunk, wounded, and weak, they eventually fell asleep in one another's arms.
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