When I was quite younger, I remember my parents bringing me to some kind of restaurant. Italian, I think, or something. It was all loud and noisy in there. The soft music playing was barely audible over the chatter of customers and employees.

  The waitress smiled and handed me a "kids menu" with two crayons. I picked up the green crayon and held it in front of my face, unsure of what to do with it.

  This might sound weird, but I had never used one before. Let alone seen one. I guess my parents thought that I had inherited their athleticism, and I wouldn't be interested in such things.

  Well it didn't necessarily smell good... But did it taste good? Hmm..

  BLEGH!

  Nope. I threw it down in disgust.

  "Mom."

  No answer. She continued inspecting her menu and babbling to Dad.

  "Mmommmmmmmm!" I had now resorted to poking her with the orange crayon. 

  "Seth! Sit still for Chrissakes!" then she turned back to her menu.

  It's probably safe to say I got a bit frustrated at this point. I angrily started kicking the table.

  Now my father started to anger.

  "Do you want to be left out in the car?"

  I restrained myself. Grudgingly. I sat completely still, holding in anger. And as I sat there I started to feel that orange crayon burn in my hand. Thoughts flew around in my head: What did I do wrong? Why should I be punished? I only wanted your help. PAY ATTENTION TO ME!

  I slammed the tip of the crayon onto the menu, and warm, flickering color spread across the page.

  Fire.

  The room was cleaner than I ever kept it in the five months I lived there. I guess a room is never really clean until you decide to leave it forever. It was about time. I really do not understand what possessed me to bunk with my soon-to-be ex-roomates. 

  Well, okay, we all hit it off when we met during the first week of classes, but Jeff and Dylan, they're the kind off guys where the longer you know them the more annoying they get. The more rude they get. The MORE YOU JUST WANT TO STRANGLE BOTH OF THEM UNTIL THEY ENTER ETERNAL REST SO YOU CAN STUFF THEM INTO TRASH BAGS SO YOU CAN DUMP THEM INTO AN ABANDONDED WAREHOUSE WHERE THEY WILL BECOME RATS, WORMS, AND MAGGOTS.

  Sorry! Got carried away.. Heheh.

  Three large boxes and a suitcase lined the wall. My desk had trash all over it, though. Jeff came in with a vacuum and Dylan with a waste basket. About time they help out around the place, seeing as ONE OF THOSE LITTLE PIECES OF SHIT WASN'T EVEN PAYING RENT.

  Woops, again..

  Well, Dylan was brushing stuff off of the desk and into the waste basket, when I noticed something familiar.

  "Wait." 

  Thankfully, he did. I picked up the orange crayon and slipped it into my pocket.

  "What, you still get the kids menu?", Jeff snorted.

  "Nah, it's from when I was a kid. It's when I discovered my-" fortunately, I choked a little. They would have found out I was more of a freak than they already thought I was. "-mmmmmmy favorite color! Yes. And my low for art."

  "Well," Dylan interjected, "color choice has been one of your worst problems."

  "Ha-ha."

  I managed to pick up two boxes, Dylan picked up the other, and Jeff started vacuuming. We got out to my car, and I started placing the boxes in the trunk while Dylan went in to get my suitcase. 

  I was waking back to the door when Dylan came back out, dropped the suitcase, slammed the door, and locked it. What a personality.

  Suitcase loaded, I turned the ignition. It hadn't occurred to me how angry I was until I saw myself in the rear view. My mind started racing.

  I got the urge to do it.

  No. Not again. They may have been jerks, slobs, AND OVERALL SHITHEADS WHO TRIED THEIR VERY HARDEST TO MAKE YOUR LIFE MISERABLE.

  The crayon started burning in my pocket. 

  SO WHY NOT!?? WHY SHOULD THEY BE HAPPY WITH HOW THEY'VE TREATED YOU SINCE DAY ONE?! THINK OF HOW THEY USED YOU!

  I checked the mirror again. A mad smile spread across my face.

  "Why not?"

  I got out, engine still running, and walked to the front door. I stared at it for a few seconds, and then took the crayon out and tapped the door. And tapped it again. And again and again and again, until flames had spread all over the door. And they continued to spread until I could smell wonderful scent of burning carpet inside. 

  I got back into my car and pulled out of the driveway. Their screams, barely audible over the music.