Fargk me...this shit was just too much for my nerves. I mean, this was all for realsies; getting mind raped by some kind of fun-house terror ride last night. About 4:40 AM, Edgar Winter came busting out of my closet and humped my foot board, shaking my bed to death. I say Edgar Winter (pictured) because he is the standard to which all scary-assed shit should be measured, and this was some scary-assed shit goin' down.
I was woken up by a violent jerk, Mark Hacking I believe. Seriously, it was like my bed's magic fingers only got a ha'penny bit's worth out of the son'bitch, whatever that means. Ah, yes, it means that instead of going on for a pleasant ride I got a tug. Yes, my bed shifted and woke me up.
I was pretty out of sorts trying to figure out what had just happened to me, then it happened four more times. By this time I was pretty much pecker dribbling my way to the nearest 100 watt bible. A prayer was offered: "Oh, Lord Jesus! Oh, savior of my lost and tormented soul. Please deliver me from some pretty farkging scary-assed shit that's happenin' with my posturepedic. I promise not to touch myself in ways that upset you; well, maybe not that, but I will at least try to not love my neighbor in unusual and inappropriate ways." That seemed to work, but I was still pretty damn disturbed until I actually fell back asleep.
Today I asked as many people as I could if they had felt any tremors around that time and all but one said no. One guy thought he had, but he is highly suggestible and is eager to please. So, now I am acting like a big pussy and staying up on the computer, not wanting to go back to my Satanic "Magic Fingers" bed. Could you blame me?
3 years ago