(At first, there is the tranquil, idyllic silence that is the
soundtrack of all gentle nights. A slight gust of wind that meanders
through the window, perhaps ruffling the curtains a bit. Nothing seems
to be out of the ordinary, after all. Except for that faint...squeak.
Was it upstairs? Was it the wind, tapping an errant branch against a
locked window? Was the window even locked? There it is again- that
muted, almost sneaky sound. The sound is unmistakably that of
someone, or something 
breaking their way into the unprotected sanctity
of your house. Oh, we should have bought a gun. We should have
triggered the alarm. Did the neighbors hear anything? Would they hear
anything? No, no, the time for making bad decisions was behind us. The
worst one, unceremoniously dumping Old Bug from this site, had already
been committed. Some things couldn't be undone. Was it him? Was he
creeping in through an opening somewhere, with his bag of depraved
devices to insert into every inviting orifice? You bet your ass he
was. To paraphrase Alice Cooper, it's no more Mr. Nice Guy, you
sniveling malcontents. Don't try to pull the covers over your head- Bug
is here- hell, he never left.)
Then there is the chilling sound of static- irrefutable....final. The radio's back on, and the first transmission is going to be a doozy, kids.
Bug made fun of my sweater and my hair bow this morning, that cranky old coot.
Posted by: Vander | March 01, 2005 at 11:18 AM
oh christ...
Posted by: gatsby | March 01, 2005 at 11:29 AM
I was afraid this would happen. I mean the beheading was believable an all, but some souls just never truly rest. I figured for Buggy it would be a death due to the hard pressed tongue-in-cheek disease. Good luck, man.
Posted by: cupcake | March 01, 2005 at 02:08 PM