Pilgrim's Progress

They were everywhere! Drunks! How I hated them. Looking through the crack in the door from the small bedroom I shared with my brother, I could see them. It was Christmas Eve on the year of my eighth birthday. What a party--they were all there tonight. My aunts and uncles, my mom and stepfather, and all their drunken friends. I couldn't sleep that night and knew in my mind how awful tomorrow would be. I could already tell that Mom would be sick and angry, and my brother and I would have to tiptoe around in the morning and try to open our presents very quietly so as not to disturb anyone in the house.