How to write an ending...

Well Hello!

Ring...

What an unusual sound, thought Walter.

Ring...

It is truly a rather abnormal anomaly...

Ring...

That such a simple sound should be able to drive a sane person so entirely mad. "Stop ringing that bloody bell!" yelled Walter. "Or I'll have the servants flog you!" That might've been a bit much for this particular ruse and he wasn't quite sure that his subjects deserved such treatment. He composed his face before reaching the door, hiding his smile behind an angry frown and an unnerving twitch. When he swung open the door with all the force he could muster, his scowl was threatening an unholy fury upon whoever was ringing his door bell.
He knew he was an old man and he knew that what he was doing was childish, but that was the very reason he did it. He abhorred the way his children had all become such proper people. Such model citizens. Where was the chaos? Where was the spontaneity? Where was the FUN? Life was too short to give any of it away to big lifeless corporations and an eternally hungry system.
But even as these thoughts marched through his head his eyes met that of the hoodlum ringing his bell. The remarkably green eyes, nearly luminescent, that were something of a family trait, stared into his. Try as he might, he couldn't stop a grin from breaking through his scowl. The mess of dirty blonde hair that the eyes were hidden behind was shaking slightly. It took him a moment to realize it was from silent laughter.

"Grandpa, you haven't had servants for quite some time. In fact I'm pretty sure you've never had any. Now, are you going to tell me why you're upsetting everyone. Again. You know, again again. Somehow they think you've decided to donate all your money towards the legalization of marijuana. Uncle Finn says he can't face the people at his work, because they somehow heard about it. And it just so happens that I know that you know his boss's email address. So why would you be tormenting your uptight son? Has Bart hidden your Cognac again?"

"Give me a chance to reply you little cretin! Well, William, my dear boy, it's all quite simple really. I'm bored. And I'm pretty sure they are too, because no matter how many times I do this, they always respond the same way. They send you. The only one in this cursed family that has any sense at all. Aside from me of course. Therefore they are, in fact bored." He paused for a moment as if to think. If only he would. William took the brief pause as his invitation, and darted into the foyer. Walter seemed to snap back to reality, and closed the door behind William. He angled towards a small table with a few glasses as he continued talking. "Or at least they should be. There's absolutely nothing interesting in their lives. No adventures, no grand schemes, nothing. If only one of your uncles would strive for something more than mediocrity. I would honestly rather have a super villain for a son than some bland accountant or lawyer." The foyer in which they found themselves had wood surfaces, polished and gleaming, with a few small stained glass windows letting in a beautiful array of colorful lights. It lead into a hall with old stone floors, that were more aligned to the style of an eighteenth century castle than the mansion Walter lived in. There was also a staircase leading down into the foyer.

"That's rather harsh, don't you think?" A voice spoke from the top of the stairs. "Sorry, stupid question. What I meant was, 'Don't be an arse, that's much too harsh"."

"Watch your tongue Bart, or I'll have to ask William to ask me to ask you to leave", Walter joked.

"Hey Bart, its good to see your being Grandpa's conscience. Or trying to at least. Hey are you still going out with that other girl, whatsherface..."

"No, unfortunately not. Your Grandfather threw a sheet over his head and pretended to be a ghost. She was still fine with that, right up until he dropped a headless Quasimodo down the balcony right in front of her."