The novelty

     There are things that annoy me, then the specific subcategories of annoying that make a ticking timer in my head appear, every second the cause of such a neural disturbance keeps continuing, the closer I get for the warmer colored emotions to explode. A slow, cerulean ocean of patience transfigures into a rumbling, disturbed volcano; another Mt. Saint Helens long overdue.

    Typical things that annoy me, but are a far cry from the issues that make my brain twitch and pace as a caged animal; are what annoys anyone with eyes, ears, mouth, nose, and a sense of what is just. The chnamw-cuhqwhauhs of chewing, mouth open as if broadcasting their mushed meal to the world. Or the mind-numbing obnoxious excuse of music that can entrance the minds of children into absurd dances and incessant singing.

    But the certain, teensy, specific issues are what brings in the grand firework spectacular of "Stop that!", "Shut up!", and threats. Two sisters and one brother, singing. Their voices could be more sweet that a mockingbird's, more somber and serene than a humpback whale's; but especially in the confines of a minivan-- I'd rather pull out my eardrums and shove them down my throat.