Pure Hatred

Look at them, across the room together. The perfect pair, the complete package. They each are the ideal compliment to the other, as if you were to separate them, the other would cease to exist.
Just being in the same room with them makes my stomach turn. They are glaring at me, knowing my disgust of their presence. They're snickering. Snickering at me knowing that I will have no choice but to acknowledge them. No choice but to utilize their worth, knowing that in the end, I need them, although they will never need me.
I try to look away, as if I don't make eye contact, I can continue to pretend as if they are not here. Their snickering continues as they glare in my direction, each one of them exchanging glances with each other, and then me. The perfect stance, the perfect posture, they both stand so still, so quiet, so intimidating. I close my eyes and face the corner as my head tries to clear it's thoughts. I try to calm my nerves knowing that any moment, I will have to approach them. Any moment I will have to pretend as though the thought of them doesn't make me want to grab the nearest blunt object and begin batting practice on their perfect existence. I will have to pretend, for a moment, that I do not mind being their, sharing a brief moment of my life with the two of them.
I can see the steam building around them, as if their perfection has caused a flame to erupt from below their blessed corner of the room. I know that the time has come, for this is my sign. I hang my head as I slowly put one foot in front of the other. The hatred inside grows as my arm begins to reach up toward their radiant glow, my hand stretches out, my eyes gaze directly onto them...
I lay Roger's uniform across the board, and regretfully begin to iron.