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A resentful and upset six year old brat glanced at me, her eyes moist with tears and her head crowned by brown curls. Lisa was throwing a hissy fit again, her mother bolted to her from the sofa, out of pure desperation she slapped her across the cheek and told her off for the upteenth time. Seated on the armchair facing the TV, grandpa knitted his eyebrows and held his hand on his forehead. Watching the television as the thing went on was a monumental effort. That loathsome sham was almost like a ceremony ritual, drastic measures were the only way to get through to her. I tried to walk through the kitchen with nonchalance, the view of the scene was so common it didn’t arouse any more shock among the members of the family.
Wow such good purple prose that really describes the room. So good using those big words that aid nothing for the reader.
I'm so glad that this "great writer" is here and having a chimp-fest.
