There were once some hippie parents that lived down a well-kept knoll. And on the well-kept knoll lived a pair of fun loving parents who adored their only child immensely. This child was a sweet-natured, sensitive child who generally kept to himself, but adored going to visit some of the neighborhood children.

The only child would go down the well-kept knoll to the house of the children of a divorced home who were well-adjusted and liked the only child a great deal. They treated him well, for the most part, with few spats.

However, the hippie parents were those permissive kind. You know, the kind whose kids would NEVER do anything to hurt a fly and who can stay out as late as they want and burn puppies. The kind of parents who raise little smart alecks who don’t have a problem talking tough and being mean to sensitive little only children by throwing water on them while they are playing their mom’s very expensive Nintendo DS. Or who throw stuff at the fun loving dad’s new Honda Element that he loves more than whiskey. Or who ring the doorbell just to upset the four precious, beloved dogs who live in the house and then run away so the fun loving mom can’t smack them in their fool head.

So, the knoll has become volatile as the fun loving dad has sent email after email only to have hippie dad say “boys will be boys” and “I don’t take secondhand information as fact.”

So the fun-loving mom is keeping her eye out. And the hippie parents are gonna get smacked in their hippie heads and the hippie kids are gonna get hit with fun loving paint balls that the fun loving mom is going to go out and buy this weekend because private property is private property and a hippie kid looks an awful lot like a fox or a coyote.

Little hippie brats.

And we’ll all live happily ever after.