He was seated on the only piece worthy to be called furniture in the sparsely-decorated living room with his bloodshot eyes scanning the length and breadth of his environment. The smell of beer could not be mistaken from a thousand miles away and his building temper would not be missed by even a blind man.
"Bring me my food, woman!", he barked again.
Aisha's younger siblings, Kuku and Kosi, trembled at the thunderous boom which his voice sent through the room. Aisha's mother handed her daughter the tray of soup they just prepared with pleading eyes. She dares not take the meal to him herself. Woe betides her if he finds fault with her again.
Aisha, who was about fifteen years of age, gladly took the tray and proceeded out of the kitchen to her father. That was the little she could do to save her mother from another black eye.
"Like mother, like daughter. You generation of fools", he bellowed at her as she set down the tray, the stench of vomit coursing through his breath.
He settled down to the meal with reckless abandon, swallowing every morsel without even pausing to consider the young and hungry souls in front of him. He continued downing morsel after morsel when he suddenly grabbed his paunch.
A piercing pain sailed through him as he clutched with his other hand and let out a yelp. Slowly, he made to stand up, sweat oozing from every pore on his being but he crumpled into a heap. He started foaming at the mouth, and Aisha's siblings started to shriek.
Aisha, watching from behind the curtains, tossed the rest of the rat's poison away. She was tired of him. She was tired of seeing her beautiful mother cry. Satan Be Gone! She thought.