One of the hyper* little nephews, Harold, a Taurus, zooms through the room in which a house of cards on a new set of rollerblades (bought for him by his Aunt Gina, a devout Leo, who believes in giving gifts that have the most potential for physical damage, either of the recipient, those that surround the recipient, or in property damage, and is generally roundly disliked by all and sundry who may be receiving gifts from her at any point in time), smashes into the wall, bounces off two of the remaining three walls and a small table, and finally, despite the diving efforts of a bystanding Virgo (which serve only to injure the child only slightly, which is just as much, probably, as he deserved anyway, and a small smattering of applause did rise for both the Virgoan's effort to stave off the inevitable and their injury to the lad), off the house of cards, and under the former house of cards (now pile of cards).
This is, happily, grounds for his expulsion, forever, from the house, and also for a curse to be placed on his family, including his mum (a Gemini), who always brings him over when he's had far too much sugar and really should know better, and is not much better liked than the Aunt who gave him the skates in the first place.
Which is a point brought up by a rather uppity Capricorn as the mother and delinquent are being escorted/thrown from the house by the irate former owner of a house of cards (now pile), who happens to be a Cancer, and not prone to throwing people, generally, though they do happen to excel at Scottish Highland games, and can toss a really heavy pole that resembles a tree more than any other sort of throwable projectile a good distance (which is, of course, far enough away not to land on their own person), and the Capricorn is greeted with that awkward sort of approval people get when they're generally being arses, and people don't quite know how to break it to them gently, though they look expectantly towards the formerly irate former owner of a former house of cards (now pile) when they return from dispatching with the mother and her kid.
A Pisces, who'd previously been stuck behind a bookshelf, being bored to death by an Aries with tales of the Aries' daring in the face of a grocer's clerk (admittedly, a Libra, though in bars they usually lied and told the person asking that they were something more exotic, like a cobra, which was usually met with gales of laughter, and the Libra went home, yet another night, without having pulled) trying to fleece themselves of the twenty nine pence that was rightfully theirs, as advertised, on a can of peas and a bag of crisps (salt and pepper flavoured, large size, not a single), leapt to the middle of the room, anxious 1) to be free of the bookshelf in case of any more stories about peas and crisps), 2) to try an attract the eye of the Scorpio across the room they'd been trying to flirt with all evening, and 3) to get the party back to a reasonable party-like atmosphere again with sudden movements and quirky behaviour that might incite conversation and merriment (as it seemed to on television), because the Pisces hadn't been to a good party since 1989, and was desperate to have stories to tell from this one that didn't include canned peas.
The Scorpio was munching on some crisps and almost had them violently embedded in their arm as a Sagittarius rushed past (not having learned the vitally important lesson about rushing about in a house that contained a house of cards, or former house of cards, and a caper-tossing houseowner) and tackled the Pisces, interpretting their signals very differently than they had been intended (or perhaps not wishing for the Aries to be unleashed upon the room), which ground the room to an expectant silence, yet again, and the Cancer houseowner growled slightly.
Underneath the former house of cards (now pile), two Aquarians were snogging, throughout the proceedings.

[Horoscopes. * not to be confused, of course, with hyperfiction.]