As I type this, Predator Face is literally bouncing off the walls. I don’t know what has gotten into him, but he is galloping up and down the stairs, racing through the living room, swatting at toys as he scurries by. And yes, occasionally he pauses to jump into the air and pounce against the wall. His tail is fully erect. His pupils are dilated as wide as his eyeballs. And despite what you are imagining, it’s not cute. It’s irritating as Hell because this pecker has been running wild like a caffeinated toddler since 4:30 this morning, and I am fucking exhausted.
It was the sudden, sharp clattering that woke me. The first one sounded like something plastic and hallow smacking against the master bathroom’s stone, tile floor. After a blessed, silent pause (but before I could drift back to sleep), something smaller (but more solid and with the hint of a liquid center) landed and skittered across the tiles.
While lying on my stomach, head facing the bathroom, I mustered the strength to flex my eyelid muscles, straining to lift them open. The highest I could raise them was half way. Once my sight adjusted, I realized the sun had yet to peep over the horizon, and by the glow of the bathroom’s night light, I observed the silhouette of a hairy asshole sitting on the bathroom counter, nudging shit over the edge, seemingly astounded by the concept of gravity.
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