Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of me laughing at you.

I think it's hilarious when people fight. This is probably a bad thing.

I don't mean knock-down drag-out fight. I can't stomach violence, heavens no. It horrifies me. I mean arguing, yelling, general annoyance, like watching parents discipline their children. I don't know why I find it funny, but there's just something - just something - about it that cracks me up. Fighting is bad, obviously, but man, is it ever funny to watch.

I wasn't always this corrupt. I remember when I would watch my childhood best friend Michelle fight with her mom and her mom would send me home when Michelle was throwing a tantrum. I never thought it was funny. Her mother terrified me. I usually went home crying because I was afraid her mother would kill her or worse, Michelle would be grounded for life. Which she was, often.

Then the times changed and I got a new best friend, Staci. We laughed at everything and anything. I mean anything, which included arguments.

I remember when I was about 14, the age where you're old enough to know better but too stupid to actually apply it, I used to go to Staci's house and every once in a blue moon she'd have an argument with her mom. I'll never forget the day Staci got into a fight with both of her parents. That was great. Man, that was awesome.

So there Staci and I were, sitting in the kitchen and eating cookies and milk and enjoying life in general when her mom came in and started yelling at her. I'm sure a conversation happened that led up to the argument, but I don't remember and I kind of don't care. This makes for a better story.

All I remember is how her mom started yelling and then Staci was yelling back. I started to smile, but quickly stifled it. I did my best to maintain control, like shoving as many cookies as possible into my mouth while attempting to look concerned, even gulping down some milk to prevent from choking. A snicker may have escaped, but that could've been a cough. I was fine. Everything was going to be fine. I'm fine, I swear.

Then Staci's dad came in and started yelling at her too.

That's when I lost it.

I started laughing. Loudly. I covered my mouth but was still pretty obvious about it. I had to find a hiding place quick. I tried my best to hide my face underneath the counter top, giggling to myself and peeking over the edge every once in a while to make sure they couldn't see me laughing. Unfortunately, the stool I was sitting on was one of those spinny stools, and I was in an awkward position. I had to hold onto the counter and on top of the stool while simultaneously hiding my head underneath the counter without falling off.

I fell off.

I stumbled onto the floor while they were still fighting and tried hiding behind the stool so they wouldn't notice I had fallen off.

Mind you, I was fourteen. I should've been mature enough to realize, "Oh...they're fighting. This is sad. This is really sad. I'm so sad that people have to fight. Also, I shouldn't hide behind stools because that's stupid."

But then the bigger part of my brain, the elephant that controls emotion said, "THIS IS SO FREAKING HILARIOUS! I'M HIDING BEHIND A STOOL! SHEER BRILLIANCE! BAAAAAAAAAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" and so I kept on laughing.

It didn't escape the parents' notice, however, that a 14-year old was hiding behind their kitchen stool and laughing at them. So I got sent home. That and Staci was grounded.

But as soon as I left through her back door and hopped the fence, I laughed my whole way home. Actually, I don't think I even waited to hop the fence. I'm pretty sure I was laughing as I stumbled down the steps to her backyard.

That guilty delight remains to this day. When I was still working at a restaurant, one of the waiters, Juan*, got into a fight with the busser, Luis. I don't even remember what the fight was about, but there was definitely tension. At one point I witnessed Luis purposely blocking Juan's way and Juan shoved him out of the way and stomped out of the room. Luis gathered up his tools and barged into the kitchen. The rest of us sat there in awkward silence.

Then my coworker Glo stifled a snicker, and I started to laugh. We sat there in that booth cracking up about them fighting while Glo explained to me what was going on. For the rest of the day, neither of us could take Luis or Juan seriously.

I try to maintain control when I see people arguing or children throwing temper tantrums. I try to think, "Liesl, don't laugh. This is awful. It's not funny, you big jerk. STOP LAUGHING, DANG IT." It doesn't work. I laugh anyway.

I have a theory about that. I usually laugh the most when I hear parents disciplining their children. I think it's because it reminds me of all the times I fought with my parents and threw temper tantrums and I'm really glad I've gotten past that, for the most part.

This, I believe, gives the universe permission to laugh at me whenever I'm in a great rage. Go ahead, laugh at me. I probably deserve it, since I'll be going to hell for laughing at other people's misery. I can't help that it's so hilarious.

*Name has been changed because I can't remember it