A few days ago. That's when this madness started. I watched in bewilderment, along with the rest of America, as a creepily enthusiastic Howard Dean shared his barbaric yawp with the rest of the world.

It is not a scream that a grown man should posess. It is a screech reserved for tortured souls, and maybe very young schoolgirls.And that was enough--no, that was MORE than enough to keep me in a semi-catatonic state for days.

But I cannot escape Howard's howl.

The next time it happened, I was dozing off with the nightly news droning on in the living room. Right when I was nearing the land of Nod, I heard it.

It was at that very moment that I honestly thought Beelzebub was in my living room. I shot up from the couch, arms flailing, with a genuine sense of dread within my bosom.

I made a vow. I would not let this happen again.

It happened again.

Just last night, I was fast asleep in bed. The television by my dresser had inadvertenly been left on.


I rubbed my eyes, swiveled my head around to the television and there he was...again. I could not return to my state of slumber for several unnerving minutes.

This morning, when I awoke, I stumbled drowsily into the kitchen, still shaken. I sat down at the kitchen table and started to leaf through the newspaper.

And there he was. Shirt sleeves rolled up, with an almost joker-esque grin adorning his face.


I WANT to escape. I NEED to escape. But I cannot.