White, airy walls, feeling light and hollow. The squeaking and popping as I rip it apart. Sometimes full of melting ice, beads of sweat, cold shitty beer, this time it’s an obstacle between me and a great present. I tear it apart, the squeaking and popping, little white spherical dots flying everywhere, like confetti on new years eve. My fingers navigate the different textures, bleached skin of a hollow rubber lizard, fragmenting it into shattered particles. The plastic cologne of a new set of GI JOE’s with the papery factory smell of the destroyed cardboard packaging. Coppery sour of adrenaline in my mouth as I rip apart the last plastic housing off of the toy. The styrofoam holocaust strewn about the modest living room. Knees first on the old carpet, like a hot burlap blanket, and jumping up and down with victory for a successful birthday spoil.