The night had started out when I came home bearing a small kitten in the palm of my hand. She was no bigger than the palm of my hand, laying out like a tiny white sausage with black spots. Her eyes were closed with a tiny pink nose and incredibly sharp claws and teeth for something so wee and small. I was bringing love home to my cat who I call Spot. Spot needs company because she's not always going to have me in her life.
Suddenly I was at the library which was remarkably crowded but more interestingly everyone was quiet like they ought to be in a public or private library. This library was a condensed version of the library I would frequent back in New Jersey. The one in my hometown not my father's hometown but that's neither here nor there. I found myself near a long bookcase where a woman confronted me. She proclaimed that I was a frog and wanted to videotape me. The truth that I was a rabbit became a dangerous truth. Should she come too close or record me in some fashion then my ruse would be revealed with dire consequences.
Thankfully I was able to maintain my ruse but this woman went on to record other things leaving me in danger of being mechanically observed, even peripherally, and drawing attention to me. Suddenly the lights went out and the only person I could see was this one chick. She has big cans but what stood out more than her secondary sexual characteristics was the fact her eyes were luminous. Not some romantic allusion to glowing, they were literally glowing like someone took out her eyeballs and replaced them with fifteen watt lightbulbs which happened to have a blue cast.
Here's the scary part.
Ms. Eyes got her hands on that digital video recorder and started playing it for her own amusement. In the distance I could hear the church bell toll midnight which sent Ms. Eyes into screaming fits. I stopped the playback while she composed herself. She asked me to start playing the video again so I could see what was so dreadful and terrible on the recording. She explained to me that the video was taken at noon and when she started playing the videotape for herself it was midnight. The recording of the tolling of the noontime bells synched up perfectly with the midnight bells. Those was an omen that filled me with dread. I found some solace in the fact that when I started up the playback again the bells didn't make it fifteen o'clock or something because it was now out of synch.
You had to be there.