To put it bluntly, the councilor was a complete hippy. His clothes were all tie-died, and the first thing he did when me and Damian came in was give us a big speech on showing our feelings. He said feelings were nothing to be ashamed of, and our rage was one of our important feelings we needed to express. The only thing was, that he said we were showing it in the wrong way, when it hurt us and others.

He was an idiot, me and Damian didn't fight because we had a bunch of inner rage stored up. OK so maybe that was a contributing factor, but we fought because that was how we talked. If Damian fought me using small quick punches and kicks, going for any target on me that he could hit easily, I knew that he had an OK day, and if I was fighting the same way, we were only fighting because that's what we normally did.

If he fought with complicated movements, flips and holds that took him a long time to set up, then he was dealing with a small problem that he couldn't solve, and he was using such complicated moves to remind himself he was smart enough to over come the problem.

If he fought hard, making his punches harder than a sledge hammer but not very fast, and wasn't really using anything else but punches with the occasional kick, then he was raving mad about something, and I needed to just block all of his attacks and let him get his anger out.

If he fought pretty much just on defense, letting me make all the punches and kicks and him just blocking me, then he was letting me get out all my anger since he didn't have any problems that day. Our relationship was something all family's should strive for, communication through physical violence. It really works!

The man then smiled at us, "OK first step in my five step process, build up all the emotions you feel inside, and scream as loud as you can. Don't feel self conscious, just let it all out."

I decided it was time to start messing with this guy's head. I liked messing with people, it was fun to watch them squirm, only thing more fun was inflicting fear. I loved it when people were afraid of me, it was almost like I fueled off of the fear and desperation.

I looked at Damian, "You first."

He had a look of disgust on his face, "Tt, you expect me to scream out loud in the middle of school like a savage? Truly primitive. I refuse."

I smirked, and turned to the councilor, "I'll go then." I over acted taking in a deep breath, and then said, "ah."

His eyes twitched, realizing we were messing with him, well, I was. Score: Kids 1, Councilor 0.

"OK then," he stood up, taking out two cans of paint, and leading us to the gym. "Alright next step, let's get out more emotions with painting!" He took out a really nice replica of The Scream. "When you think of art, do you think of something like this?"

I nodded, along with Damian. The councilor's face exploded in rage, "Well you wrong!" He shouted, throwing it on the ground, and then taking a bat out of seemingly no where, and beating the painting. "This is not painting! This is not painting! This. Is. Not. Painting!" He took out a lighter, and lit is, tossing it onto the beat up painting, "Burn! Burn, you relic of convention!"

Me and Damian looked at each other, this guy was a total whack job. He picked up the can of paint, and held it up, "Alright, now who wants to go first?"

"I'm not sure that I'm gonna like this..." I trailed off.

His smiled got bigger, "Nonsense!" He opened the can of yellow paint, and threw it at me. The paint splattered all over me, coating my red tee shirt, leather jacket, blue jeans, and red converse. "The world is your canvass, now be the brush!" He said merrily

I wasn't really concerned about the clothes, we were rich, I could always get another leather jacket. What concerned me, was the intense burning sensation in my eyes. I screamed, rubbing the paint out of my eyes, "IT BURNS!" I screeched.

Damian nearly fell over in laughter as I staggered around, dripping paint everywhere and I ran into a few walls. No way was I gonna explain this to the P.E. coach, this was all on the councilor.

The Councilor turned to Damian, grabbing the other paint can. Damian fixed him in the worst glare imaginable, "If you do it, I will kill you in the most painful way possible."

The Councilor backed off. Kids: 2 Councilor: 0.

I grabbed the paint can from him, and opened it, hurling it at Damian. He tried to jump out of the way, but couldn't. Green paint splattered all over him ad his clothes.

I laughed as he screamed, "IT BURNS!"

AFTER SCHOOL:

We walked in the door, to see Dad, with his head in Mom's lap. Mom was gently rubbing his shoulders as he snuggled closer to her stomach, saying, "And then I saw the kid try to steal a pocket knife, so I shot at him."

Mom nodded, "Did you kill him?"

"No! I didn't even hit him, just the wall right next to his head. The he ran away screaming, and then his father came in, talking about suing me for child assault. So I shoved my gun in his face and told him if he even tried, not only would he fail, but I would kill him slowly and painfully."

"And then what happened?" Mom asked.

"He ran away, after wetting himself, and your Dad found out, because of the security camera and told me if you ever had to take a day off because of some self righteouse principle again, to either let him handle the shop by himself, or send Justin or some one else to fill in for you." He said, pouting, "And pretty much banned me from the shop unless I'm with you or Justin."

Mom smiled, stroking his hair, "I'm sorry baby."

Dad smiled back, sitting up and holding her face in his hands, and started kissing her.

"Get a room!" Barked Damian, plopping down on the coach next to him.

They broke apart, Mom blushing, Dad smirking, "You'll understand when your older demon child."

Damian snorted, "Yeah right."

Mom noticed the paint all over our clothes. "How did counseling go?"

I smirked, remembering how after Damian had cleared his eyes of paint, me and him had broken into a vicious fight, and the councilor had helplessly stood by. Finally, he had said that if we didn't stop, he would keep us in school counseling for the rest of the month. Then Damian and I had tied him to a chair, and soaked him in paint, and had locked him in the supply closet after he vowed he would never tell on us and gave us a passing grade. Meaning we never had to go back. I had also karate chopped his desk in half to show him we meant business. I wonder how he planned on getting out of that closet. Maybe tomorrow I'd get him out. Maybe I should have checked to make sure that paint had no toxins that could cause permanent damage if contact with it was maintained for long periods... Oh well, I'm sure he'll be fine.

"Well, we learned how to scream, get paint in our eyes, make grown men wet themselves, and break things." I said casually.

Mom raised an eyebrow, "Justin, am I going to be hearing from the school in a few hours with complaints?"

I shook my head, "No worries Mom, the guy is to scared to tell."

Dad smiled, "Well, I guess that's all the matters."

"So how was your day?" I asked plopping down next to Dad. The paint was already dry, so I didn't worry about getting it on the sofa.

Dad shrugged, "Eh, it was OK."

Kenya suddenly toddled in, holding Jabborwocky. She brightened up as she saw us, "Your the same!" She jumped on Mom, and hugged the life out of her. "None of you changed at all!"

"Why would we?" I questioned.

"The principle said you had to change!" Kenya cried, "Jabborwocky said that meant you'd all be different, and I wouldn't recognise you at all, and that you and Damian would never fight again, and Mommy and Daddy would swap personatifies."

"Personatifies?" I questioned.

Damian spoke up, "I think she's crudley referring to 'personalities'."

"Oh." I said.

"Kenya, that won't happen." Dad said.

Mom nodded, "Besides, wouldn't change be good? You were unhappy."

Kenya shook her head, "If you had only listened, you would have known, I never wanted anyone to change."

"But, the drawing." I protested.

Kenya took the drawing out of her back pocket, and showed it to us. Me and Damian trying to kill each other, Dad on the couch, Mom exhausted. Right in the middle of all of us, was Kenya, and right below her were the words 'I love my family'.

Kenya smiled, "This drawing says, 'I love my family.' Just the way they are."

I smirked, "Yep, she's a Todd."

Dad laughed, then paused, "Does that mean I don't have to go back to work?"

Kenya nodded, smiling.

"Yes!" Dad cried, lifting Kenya into the air and spinning her around.

I turned to Mom, "So how was your day?"

Mom smiled, "I finally got to catch that soap opera I've been dying to."

"How was it?" I asked.

She frowned, "It sucked, it wasn't realistic."

"How so?" Asked Dad, as he stopped spinning around with Kenya.

"When the wife found out her husband had cheated on her, she didn't beat him to a bloody pulp." She said.

I nodded, "Unrealistic."

Dad smirked putting Kenya down and she then proceeded to glomp Damian, "Well, I don't think she would have beat him to a bloody pulp."

"Really?" Asked Mom. Damian tried to shove Kenya off of him, but she held fast. That toddler has an iron grip. IRON GRIP I TELL THEE!

"If my girlfriend cheated on me, I would tie her to the bed post and set the house on fire." He said. You could tell from his tone he was serious, and was partly warning Mom.

Mom nodded slowly, "It's a good thing I'd never cheat on you."

Dad nodded seriously, "Because I would do just that."

Every one was dead silent, until Dad tackled Mom, and pinned her to the floor, laughing. Mom screamed, and Dad started tickling her. Me and Damian looked at each other, and I shrugged, "You know, they say as you get older, your sanity slips away."

Damian nodded, "Apparently it has taken effect on your parents."

We were silent as Mom and Dad's tickle fight turned into a make out session. RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. I felt my stomach churn, and I got up, leaving, while Damian ignored them, and grabbed the remote. "Hide your shame Justin, hide your shame."

Hide your shame. Ha. Right, you know the drill, reviews help me get these out faster.