Shhhhhh. Hi. It’s me, Randall. I’m here. Under the covers. SHHHHH. Come down here close. So, there is definitely something outside my window. You can hear it, if you’d shut the fuck up for one second….THERE! Hear that?! What the fuck IS that? Here are my top 8 guesses:
It’s my ex-boyfriend, Charles, from college and he’s been secretly obsessed with me ever since he broke up with me and he’s finally come back and we will be together forever.
A little bitty baby rabbit chomping on a carrot stick and being fluffy as all hell. There’s nothing to worry about buddy. You’re safe. Enjoy your dinner and then move the fuck along, so Daddy can get some shut-eye.
The ghost of country music superstar Joe Diffie and he’s tuning up his ghost truck and getting ready to hit the town looking for some ghost pussy.
Serial murderer and dyslexic bed-wetter Gary Ridgway, otherwise known as The Green River Killer. Notorious for murdering sex workers, he found out I started an OnlyFans and has broken out of prison for one last thrill. He will kill me and make love to the corpse. Please feed my cat, Benji, and tell Charles I’m still very much in love with him.
My cat, Benji. He’s a dummy thicc Maine Coon. Sometimes he escapes when I take out the trash and I’ll find him in the alley behind our house screwing his spiny cat chode into my neighbor Margo’s sexy ass tabby.
Could be a burglar wearing a little black mask and skintight black and white striped shirt come to burgle my house. He better not!
It’s nothing, probably just the wind blowing dogs off chains on a clear full moon night as the fog comes rolling in over the hills and the willow branches sway to the music of the nightime symphony: Cricket on violin, Bullfrog on the dixieland slide trombone, and wise Mr. Owl playing the harpsichord in the whimsical way that only his feathers can. Oh yeah. Play that sweet stuff, boys. The night is young.
Me from the future just stopping by to see if I’m still awake. Obviously he doesn’t want to wake me because that could alter the timeline. But as long as I’m still awake, what would it hurt if I snuck through the window and told myself all about how Charles and I got back together, married in Savannah, adopted a beautiful Mongolian boy named Naranbaatar, and lived peacefully into our old age on Sullivan’s Island?