The Horror Of It All

It was late Thursday night. The house was asleep. I had heartburn and didn't know why. I got up and went to the kitchen finding the bottle of antiacid tablets and chewed two. Knowing that it would not subside that quickly I went to the livingroom turned on the tv and settled myself on the little couch and flipped open the lap top. I was thinking about my new car. OMG, Steven bought me a car!! Not just any car! My new car is a '53 Buick Special Eight! I had the giddiness of a teenager with my very first car. "And Steven King's car was a '54 Buick Eight," came the little voice in my head. Holy Shit! "And it is painted like his Christine, too," the little voice chimed in again. Sweet Mother of God! My mind raced through both of those books, Christine and From A Buick 8! The things that come back are straight from the pits of hell! I remember reading Christine all those years ago and being scared shitless! It was just two years ago that I read about the Buick and though I wasn't scared the idea was off putting. But! There is always a "but". Steven King is a master of the mind fuck and it is what he leaves you thinking that is more frightening than what he writes! About the time I was shaking it off and getting my thoughts back to the joy joy happy happy of the new car -- "BLAM! WHAM! CRACK! BAM! SLAM!" Sweet Jesus in Heaven! Something from the pits of hell just crashed through my kitchen door! The dog woke from her coma and came over cowering at my feet. What a great protector I have. She should have torn into the kitchen to see what was happening. But NO! She cowers! It must be from hell if she is cowering! With shaking breath and very small slow footsteps I eased toward the kitchen. I stopped short of the doorway trying to peer into the darkness. I couldn't see a damn thing! Do you know how dark it is in the country? I let my fingers slip along the door jam and to the other side to flip on the dining room light. That switch answered my call in nanoseconds and the room was flooded with bright light from the ceiling fan. When nothing else happened, I poked my head around and took one shakey step into the room. The back door was closed, locked, the glass was intact! WTF? I stepped farther into the room. My eyes scanned every inch of space in the kitchen, flew to the windows to see if one of them was shattered. All intact. I eased around the side of the refrigerator. The light cover swung to and fro as it hung from its hinge. Save me! ... from a falling four foot light cover hanging from the kitchen ceiling! "You are so going to blog this!" The little voice taunted me. "No I am not!" Why would I do that to myself? "Heh, oh yes you will, because I am not going to let you write anything else until you tell this story." The fucking little voiced laughed. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!?