When demon babies attack
Sunday, November 25, 2007, 11:11 AM
I don't feel right with the world.
Stomach pain woke me up at 3:30 a.m. this morning. I was dreaming about a demon baby who kept driving its razors-for-claws into my throat. In the dream I couldn't move my arms, so I just lay there, took the pain and tried to scream (yeah, even though I had demon claws in my throat). I heard myself make this crazy sound (probably because of the demon claws), and woke up. It was a toss up on whether the lessor of the two evils was the demon baby or my stomach pain.
Actually, I haven't felt right with the world since Thanksgiving, darn it to hell. It's like my body from the waist-up has shifted a couple of degrees to the left. And-and-and maybe I've been shot through my stomach--like what happened to Goldie Hawn in Death Becomes Her. Oh god, that movie kills me.
My head hurts because I'm afraid to have a cup of coffee. (I had the perfect breakfast set-up, too: coffee and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Coffee for kick-assism, chocolate for good endorphinism.) And then I opened an e-mail from my mother, an e-mail about the sacrifices being made by those in the army. One of the photos that caught my attention (of two men pulling another man, bloody and near death, out of a car) had this caption: You complain of a headache and call in to work. He gets shot at while others are hit and keeps moving forward.
My head hurt worse after that. So did my stomach, come to think of it.
This is why I'm here, forcing out some words. Or, why I'll still be writing after this moment. Sitting in front of the computer and trying to write something comprehensive might make me feel like an idiot, but it's better than dodging an enemy's bullets. Or being attacked by a demon baby.