the murder of the helpless beetle

The family sat around the dinner table eating ketchup packets and saltine crackers talking about nuclear nonproliferation treaties and the short stories of Annie Proulx. Father sat in his white BVD's, his hairy stomach bulging; he scratched his Naval Academy anchor tattoo and said to Mother, "now, why don't you pass the Yorkshire Pudding, please?" Mother grabbed a handful of ketchup packets and threw them at Father. "Thank you," said Father. Sister leaned over and farted. "And thank you," said Father to Sister. "Would you like some Yorkshire Pudding, dear?," he asked her, wiping ketchup from his chin. "Why, yes Father. Thank you ever so much," she answered. Father opened several ketchup packets and spread ketchup all over his hairy belly. A beetle scampered across the floor toward Father, who crushed it with his bare foot. Sister leaned over and licked Father's belly. "This is very good Yorkshire Pudding, Mother," said Sister. "Thank you ever so much," said Mother.

How cruel of Father to kill the helpless beetle.