"Shut the hell up, you mutt."

Those bloody geese annoy the hell out of me. Always squawking and following me like sheep. I could kill the bugger who persuaded me to get. If they thought it would make me sober, they thought wrong. In fact, they have made me drink more. I want to starve them to death, but I know Peeta gives his bread scraps to them, so I don't stand a chance.

Anyway, I am currently cleaning my house. Yes, Haymitch Abernathy is cleaning. It was not my idea. Katniss and Peeta refuse to buy any alcohol for me unless I clean the whole house. It's how they are planning on making me sober (sometimes). So, I am proving them wrong. So far I have cleaned the kitchen- chucked some old pots in the sink and some mouldy food in the cupboard- cleaned my room- "made" my bed and chucked some old clothes in the wardrobe- and now I'm cleaning the hutch for the worthless geese.

There are five too many game birds inhabiting my backyard at the moment. Four girls and a lad. He's the pain in the neck. I'd think he is a cow if I didn't know better. Not that I do know better, I must admit. Sometimes I wake up from an afternoon nap and think I'm in District 10. People have told me that he's screeching is a mating call, to attract females or something like that, but it does not sound attractive. Anymore of those feathered friends and they are dead meat. Nothing nicer than a Sunday roast goose.

"Ay-mich, ay-mich!"

The only reason I keep the geese is for the Mellark kids down the road, Rosy who is 6 and Nick who is 4. They seem to give them the tender loving care I wouldn't dream about. And plus, the geese are good babysitters.

"Hey kids. Help me with the geese, will ya?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Rosy, is basically a spitting image of Katniss. Same dark black hair, high cheek bones, same small smile, same laugh, same thin, athletic body and exactly the same personality. Everything is the same except for the eyes. She has Peeta's eyes. And Peeta's talent at baking and painting. She is already planning on running Peeta's bakery which he opened not long ago. For Christmas she gave me a painting of the geese. It was quite good, actually, but it was of the geese, so it lives in the spare room.

"Geeeeeese! Come here little geeseys!"

Nick is all Peeta. His blond hair falls the same way his father's always had. Even at the age of four, he can influence people with his words almost as good as Peeta had. But his eyes are grey. The same fierce grey of his mothers. And he got her hunting blood for sure. He can already shoot a rabbit from 10 feet away.

I manage to finish the hutch while the kids distract the geese so we go inside to have something to eat.

I grab the bag of rolls and cookies from Peeta's bakery the kids had brought and tossed a bottle of white liquor in my hand.

"Ay-mich?"

"Yes, Rosy?"

"It smells"

I chuckle to myself and stare down at the bottle

"It does smell doesn't it?"

"It does"

Then we eat our bread in silence, for once, and I watch Nick's curious and confused face

"Ay-mich?"

"Yes, Nick?"

"Why does it smell?"

I'm stuck now. I'm sure Katniss and Peeta wouldn't want me explaining t their 4 year old son that Uncle Haymitch is a drunk.

I am distracted by a loud SQUAWK and straight away I know the answer to the question.

"Geese."