The sight that greeted her floored her. There were toys scattered everywhere, but they were not scattered because the children were simply playing with them. No, they were scattered because they children were PELTING them at each other. She cleared her throat, and wondered where to begin. The noise attracted the children like a gazelle attracting a lion, and all at once, toys of numerous shapes and sizes were being pelted at her. She gave a small shriek, and dodged out of the way of the miniature missiles. That didn't deter the children, oh no, it did exactly the opposite. They ran after her, giggling all the while. Oh, what fun they were having, throwing their precious "weapons" at the poor defenseless woman. Finally, after having being pelted by a baseball, ("Where in the HELL did they get a baseball????") she shouted, "ENOUGH!" She glanced at her shin bone, and was surprised to find that blood was trickling from the small cut the baseball had given her. The children all stopped in their tracks, and did the only thing they knew to do. They cried. And not simply small tears, running down their chubby cheeks. No, these were loud alligator tears. A few of the children actually threw themselves to the ground, to grace the floor with their tiny fists and feet. Those were the children who decided that sobbing loudly wasn't going to get them their way. No, they decided that to get their way, they had to SCREAM. Horrendous, blood-curdling screams filled the room, that, quite obviously, got Mary running to see what was wrong.

Mary burst through the door, panting as if she had just run a marathon. "What's going on here? Why are they all screaming?" She yelled, as she clamped her hands over her ears. "Uh." Rosha stammered. "Well, I uh. um. it was like this. They started throwing their toys at me, and, well, after one of them pelted a BASEBALL at me," she pointed to the cut on her shin, "I kinda. um.. yelled at them, that that was enough. And. well, you came running, and I started explaining." She stopped talking, realizing that she was rambling. Mary looked at her, with a look of utter confusion on her face. "But Rosha. they are only two years old. Are you -quite- sure that they started throwing things at you?" Rosha nodded emphatically. "Yes ma'am, I am quite sure. where else would I have gotten the injury on my leg?" Mary smiled at her, the kind of smile that one would give a child before explaining something to them that they might not buy. "Now, Rosha. Really. Are you sure that you didn't just hit your leg on the table? We have had many people who have watched these children do that, you know." Rosha gritted her teeth, and made herself count to ten. She was in serious danger of losing her temper. When she had reached ten, she exhaled slowly. "That only means that these. these.. children have attacked people before. Now I've heard of 'When Animals Go Bad', but now it's 'When CHILDREN Go Bad.'" A frown of disapproval crossed Mary's features. "Rosha, you aren't seriously considering that the children did this on purpose are you? Because I assure you, that at the age of two, they simply cannot grasp the concept of premeditation." Rosha glowered at the receptionist, but forced herself to nod. "Yes, I am sure you are right, Mary." The children grinned smugly up at Rosha, as one by one, they crowded around Mary, as if vying for her attentions. Mary beamed up at Rosha. "See? They are nothing but perfect angels." Of course, Mary walked away as she said it, so she did not hear Rosha's bitter laughter.