My precious comic books.

Everybody is conspiring against me.

My neatly arranged Detective Conan were not neat anymore. In fact, they were all over the floor. Their nice detachable cover was detached, crumpled and scattered. Oh, my precious!

:wolf wail:

I could only stared hopelessly, as the culprit happily giving me his satisfaction smile. I was fuming like a steam locomative inside, but I couldn't let it out. How could I? when he thought he was just being cute. Looking at how sparkling his eyes were, and the way he smiled from ear to ear, showing his rabbit-like teeth.

Furthermore, it was just another indication of his obsession to books. Which is good, actually. No mother wants her child to be book-hater.

And the father, who was only two footsteps away, did not do anything to prevent that from happening. Well, I can't really blame him though. As I had mentioned before, male brain can only function for one thing at a time. When their hands, eyes and mind are glued to the computer, you can't expect them to even notice an earthquake.

This is what I get over Meg Cabot. I should have known not to bring Princess in Pink home.

Curiosity will surely kill me at this young age.