Reply #11: were repulsed by his incessantly perky and happy demeanor.

[Rabrrrrrr]

In fact, it was so bad in Ivan's house that his fourteen year old son, Artemis Rex, who properly hated happiness in all its mephitic soul-destroying ways, finally became so incensed at the constant, unrelenting, mind-numbingly ignorant cheerfulness that he felt his only escape was to go to the garage where he found the biggest axe, a nasty double-sided one used to fell trees on the back 40 that Ivan kept utterly sharp because, hey, he was so cheery that everything was perfect and he always kept perfectly good care of all his belongings. Artemis gripped the axe in holy righteousness, eager - desperately eager - to rid the world of the kind of saccharine Reader's Digest banality that Ivan represented. Coming to Ivan's bedroom, late at night while he slept, Artemis first woke Ivan so that he might see the face of his grim and holy reaper. At first surprised, then immediately assuming it was yet another cheerful prank, Ivan smiled a big smile and said, "Okay, Artemis, you really got your old man this time! You had me scared for a moment, you did!" Artemis, however, did not move, except to draw the axe above his head, it's razor-thin cutting edge gleaming in the last bit of moonlight that Ivan was ever to see, before crashing the head down into Ivan's stomach, then head, then legs, and over and over again, thrusting and smashing, Ivan's blood spurting and spraying in unholy delight over the entirety of his bedroom-cum-coffin. As Ivan screamed the final throes of his awful painful suffering death, all cheerfulness finally severed grotesquely from his body, Artemis sat in his father's bleeding offal and entrails and for the first time in his life, he