I despise children. To think I ever was one sends a cold shiver up my spine and creates wayward twitch in the corner of my mouth, creasing the lines of my face in recognisable distaste. I find most everything about children displeasing. From the harsh sounds that explode out of their mouths to the grubby marks they leave on the surface of all they touch, they are a stain on the face of the earth. However, if they must be a necessarily stain, at least they are a temporary one. They are the embodiment of a phase that’s physical traits last at most fifteen years (while the psychological traits may last a lifetime).
Having expressed to you my intense hatred of these filthy little creatures, you will then understand my horror when I venture into the world and find these monsters in my surroundings. At places such as parks and near schools, the presence of children is only natural, and thus I have adequate time to brace for it. However, when unexpected, the effect of being subjected to their vicinity is magnified tenfold. When planning a quiet day in Melbourne, ice skating seemed the perfect fun yet relaxing activity to consumer myself with. I was extremely excited and had been on the ice not ten minutes when the arena exploded with sound. Shrill shrieks of demonic delight reverberated off the walls, shuddering through me, splitting my head right down the middle. Wildly, I skated up to one of the friendly staff members to inquire why the arena had suddenly been infested with children. Through a good-natured confusion, the girl replied that the ice skating rink doubled as one of the many kids birthday party venues in Melbourne. After pressing her further, I discovered the children would be there for at least another two hours. Naturally, that was when I decided to make my departure.
My question now is this: are there no children-free zones left to us?