…..I called her name and she didn’t answer. I called again…..still no reply. Called her a third time…..same (non)response. And of course that’s when I started getting nervous, started getting antsier than a dropped potato chip at a summer picnic. This wasn’t like her, wasn’t characteristic of her normal behavior. Something must be wrong…..something drastic maybe? So I went to investigate the mystery, and what I found stopped me dead in my tracks. She was there alright, there right where she was supposed to be…..but not as a living, breathing organism anymore. Rigor mortis had obviously already set in, and her eyes—although still hauntingly open—were glazed over and drying up rapidly not unlike fresh grapes into raisins. What the…..?! The bizarre spectacle didn’t afford any time to answer my hypothetical question, however, because I suddenly turned pale and got sick then and narrowly missed hitting her stiff body with a blistering stream of vomitus. Shiiiiitttt!!! Goddamnitall!!! HOLY FUCK ALREADY!!! “Great!” I thought to myself. Now you have more than a dead body lying in your bedroom under suspicious circumstances to contend with; you also have this smelly, unseemly mess to clean off your carpet before the gross stuff settles into the fabric and subsequently reeks for half an eternity whenever indoor humidity winds up spiking over the summer months. Why, of all life’s niggling problems, and solely because of HER!!!.…..
Fred's Soapbox 