Last night, I thought someone broke into my bedroom. It was quite late and I opened my eyes just long enough to see some short guy dart into my closet. Listen: I don't care what time it is, you don't just break into my house and rummage through my closet. I realize how stunning my wardrobe is, but I really must put my foot down.
I realized I was probably making all of this up, but I wanted to verify that. I went to the closet, turned on the light, and looked around. Sure enough, no one there. However, I had hanging up one of those long, plastic sleeves you cover your clothes with while traveling. Now if you were caught in someone's closet and you had to choose one spot to hide or risk being captured, wouldn't you hide behind the travel sleeve? It was 3 AM, but I recognized the logic.
Rather than actually walk in and check behind the sleeve, I picked up my shoe and threw it. I threw quite hard right at the sleeve, and as expected, I found no one hiding behind there. Unless, and I'm only thinking of this now, there was someone hiding behind the sleeve and he didn't cry out because he was incapable of feeling pain.
That's considerably more disturbing.
I don't have a softball game tonight, so I'm going to watch the Departed. Pun alert: I was thinking of making a movie about a criminal who goes around stealing little kids' go-carts, and the way in which the kids deal with the loss. The title?
...
The Decarted. (Failing that, we'll make him steal Pop Tarts (or hussies, I guess) and call it the Detarted.)
Posted by Cody at March 1, 2007 6:43 PM