Is There Life Beyond the Dishwasher?

Destructo snatches a triangular pie server from the dishwasher with the speed of a Nascar driver, wielding it through Combat Zone A (our house) like a highly skilled swordsman. Spitfire watches him with aloof distain, though he is obviously ready for war. She is in rare, five-year-old form since returning from two hours with her friend from across the street, who is more highly regarded than either of her parents. Dart Guy is indulging in Doom and Gloom (see Glenn Beck), having decided to cut Coca Cola from his life (it's not even Lent, I cry!). I respectfully suggest that he KO Fox News Channel instead, but recieve an especially black stare for my efforts. Spitefire doesn't appear to like me today, either, since I sent Dart Guy to retrieve her from the nieghbor's house, where she would prefer to live. I continue loading up the dishwasher, which I do in my sleep too, and, luckily, am aided by Robin Hood Destructo, who has laid down his pie-server-sword and taken up with a wooden spoon for his fraternizing. When it is time for Dart Guy to make a deserved exit from the day's chaos, escaping to Dart World, both children line up at the window, one wailing mournfully, as though being left at an orphanage, and one waving and calling out with grave enthusiasm. The neighborhood shudders at the sound, and Dart Guy shakes his head. I decide I should be prepared for him to make for Mexico, because, even with State Department cautions about the dangers there, it may be safer for his sanity than here.