Lost

36 ...
Waddling, he came through the gate and the front door.  His eyes were glazed.  His face flustered and pinkish red.  His breath strongly reeked in cheap-smelling alcohol.  He did not bother to extend a polite greeting towards everyone he came upon in the room; from the entry gate, he dashed through the front, and then the kitchen doors as if he had something to hide.  You could tell he wished he were able to walk unnoticed through doors and among folks he lived with in the house.  His guardian first mutely stood at sight; she did not expect a repeat of the going and coming home in drunken stupor.  What followed next was a heated scolding ... one he wished he could have been spared because like other times, he knew he would wildly respond again in disrespectful demeanor.  He did retort... yelling and expressing disgust over the child-like reprimand; all hell broke loose next.  Arguments, accusations, and denials unleashed like one tornadic event, a repeat of repeats, just like it happened many times before.  This was nothing different from all previous awkward exchanges of anger and disgust.  What did he and she expect?  They should have known that like all other times, alcoholic spirits taint civil dispositions.