Something terrifying happened to me last night--something so terrifying that it makes Pyramid Head look like a kitten. Actually, it was so terrifying that it makes
eight hundred Pyramid Heads look like
a basket of kittens!"That's impossible!" I hear you cry indignantly. "You could never mistake Pyramid Head for a kitten. He's only got one triangle and kittens have
two triangle-shaped ears on top of their heads!"
To that I say, "NOT THE SCOTTISH FOLD." I also say, "IT IS INDEED POSSIBLE, GENTLE READER. READ ON...GENTLE...ISH...LY."
The night of The Most Terrifying Event Ever kicked off with business as usual: It was late o'clock and I was still awake, doing nothing productive.
I think I was browsing Youtube and cursing their new, laggy video player in foul yet inventive ways. Or maybe I was reading webcomics. It doesn't matter. I was engaged in some sort of fun, time-wasting internet activity, at any rate, when it rudely interrupted me.
It was the scream from hell. It sounded like an unholy cross between a dying bird, a cat in heat, and fingernails on a metal chalkboard. A rusty metal chalkboard. Yes, I know that chalkboards are not made of metal, stop judging my analogies.
Anyway.
The screaming wouldn't stop.
It came in irregular, nerve-shattering intervals. Each shriek lasted no more than a few seconds, but nor did the ensuing silence last for more than a few seconds. Occasionally it paused just long enough to make me think it was done; then it would return, its second wind reached, and make me jump out of my chair all over again.
By now my dog was awake too, and she decided to fight noise with noise. The scream was not evidence of a ghastly monster to be hidden from; it was an intruder to be warned away. Loudly. Did I mention that it was late o'clock?
I pulled her into my lap and shushed her, partially to spare the neighborhood's collective eardrums but mostly, I am not ashamed to admit, to make us less of a target for whatever lurked outside. The screams continued unabated and with each passing second I could feel my brain slowly ooze out of my ears, having concluded that my life was no longer worth working for. In those long, long moments ripped apart by the tormented, inhuman cries at my window, it may have had enough time to book a flight to Hawaii. For all I know it's on a plane right now, sipping margaritas in first class and planning to learn hula--I haven't seen it since then and I don't think I ever will.
Abandoned by my own gray matter, the dog and I waited for our gruesome end in silence.
Instead, after a small eternity, the screams began to taper off.
It was going away! The monster was going away! To where I didn't know or care. It could go terrorize some other household and not a single damn would be given from me because it was GOING AWAY! I let out a huge sigh of relief. Then I cheered. Then I began putting together a celebration party.
Then I almost died of fright when the scream came again, much louder and closer than before. FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HOUSE.
Things are a little blurry after that point, as that's when the monsters dragged themselves out of my closet where they had been hiding among all the clothes I never wear, throwing their voices and having a merry laugh at my expense.
I tried to hide, but the dark was too scary for me.
I lit a candle. I couldn't help it! I needed SOMETHING to look at other than the dark, impenetrable darkness!
Then Alexander and Mr. Face and Mr. Vaginahead saw the flickering of my candle and came over and punched through the blanket and then they killed me and now I am dead.
True story.
(Okay, so I never found out what that horrific screeching actually was, but this is as good an explanation as any.)
