Chicken Shit Bastard & the Serial-Killer Rapist (probably) Upstairs

Aside from a handful of months, I’ve lived by myself for the past fifteen years.

I love living by myself. As an especially introverty introvert I need to have my own space to revert to after being with people. I need to have a place where I don’t have to speak to anyone about anything or even live with the possibility that I might be required to speak to someone without a moment’s notice. Just the thought of it exhausts me.

There are roughly 77,139 wonderful things about living alone. There are a few shitty things about living alone and most of them involve either doing dishes or things that go bump in the night. Last night was kind of bumpy.

I arrived home from Family Dinner (tator tot hotdish for non-beef eaters & meatloaf for beef eaters) around 9 p.m. and promptly discovered “St. Elmo’s Fire” on one of the eight channels my TV gets. Wooee was I happy. This has no significance to the story, I was just really happy about it.

Long about 11:30 shortly after Billy had helped Wendy shuck her virginity it was time to go upstairs to read and sleep. I do this every single night. Turn off the lights, walk upstairs, and turn on the light once I reach the top of the stairs. There’s a light at the bottom of the stairs, but I always wait until I get to the top to turn it on. I’m not sure why. Maybe because there’s often enough moonlight from outside that I don’t need the light on while walking upstairs. I definitely need it on once I am upstairs because I have an irrational fear of plummeting down the stairs in the dark.

So last night at about the time I hit the fourth step I realize there’s an eery light coming from my bedroom. I stopped, turned, and looked out the tall window in the living room. The moonlight was pretty bright and so I shrugged it off for another step or two. But the closer I got to my room (I can see it from the steps), the more my spidey-senses began to tingle. The eery light wasn’t coming from the windows, it was coming from the opposite direction. Also, it wasn’t moonlight. And also, I had left Supergenius HQ when it was still light out and thus had no reason to have lights on upstairs.

I paused on the next step as I realized the closet light was on. Now, you need to know that the master bedroom closet not only has a light (so bougie, I know), but that you have to walk through the master bath (super boug) to get to that closet (super stupid and if you ever want to hear me bitch about how stupid and poorly designed this joint is, it will start with the fact that there is a toilet practically in my closet).

Why would my closet light be on at 11:30 at night? The obvious answer is that a serial-killer rapist was waiting for me to go brush my teeth before bed. At least that was the obvious answer to my brain. I tried to get Paco to go into the room before me, but he just stood at my feet watching me. “Chicken shit, bastard,” I said. He meowed at me but didn’t budge.

All this happened in about forty-five seconds. I crept toward the bathroom with the plan to grab the scissors off the counter and plunge them into the serial-killer rapists chest. Because of course that’s what I would do if someone popped out of the closet. I totally wouldn’t drop dead of a heart attack right on the spot. Of course not.

I stepped into the bathroom and before I could find the scissors on the messy counter my eyes caught the pile of clothes in the doorway of the closet.

“Oh yeah,” my brain laughed. “All your clothes were still drying after you took a bath and you got dressed from the clothes you never wear in the closet.” (all the clothes in the closet are the ones I never wear).

It took a long time for the fear and adrenaline to wear off. At one point after I had closed my book, turned off the light, and practiced. I was convinced I felt someone getting into bed with me. I kind of pawed the other side of the bed without turning around and didn’t feel anyone.

“It’s a ga-ga-ga-ghost!” my brain shouted, but that time I didn’t listen. Instead I turned on Jason Isbell and snuggled in for some slumber, pretty sure not even a serial-killer rapist or a ghost would disturb me with Jason Isbell playing.

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