Are You Afraid Of The Dark?
Do you really need to ask? I’d like to think you’d know me by now after 85 dull posts. A few more dull posts and I’ll have a fence. And some land. And a real pretty farm. And there’ll be some chickens. We’ll go to the market and get some real nice feed for them. And when I say ‘we’, I’m of course referring to me and my super-pal Gary Sinise (free hugs for anyone who gets that reference).
I was afraid of the dark. Everyone is at some point. But I’m afraid of many things. Women. Pasta. Fans (actually fans, not obsessive’s who have somehow got a hold of my underwear). Women again. Chocolate, because it’s adds pounds to my thighs. Boomerangs (same reason as fans). Disco balls, although one falling on you would be a great way to go (Ally, died aged 21 from a disco ball to the head). Erm. Did I mention women? Yes? Oh, come on. They’re too nice. Just because I’m shy, they feel they have a need to hug me. I’m not bothered about the debilitation or the humiliation, but rather the inconvenience. I live life by a schedule. I’ve things to do! Stop hugging me! It’s a lovely gesture but time doesn’t stop for hugs.
I used to have a nightlight until I was about 12, which I admit was rather late in life to have a nightlight still. But here’s my defence to anyone who criticizes: firstly, mum or dad always turned it off after I drifted to sleep, and secondly, shut up. I got over my fear. One night the light wasn’t working so I thought ‘oh why bother?’ And I went into slumber without the light.
Although now and again a tiny amount of fear creeps back. But I hide it with nice thoughts such as rainbows and bananas (Rainbows and Bananas – also the name of my home brewed toothpaste).
Are you afraid of the dark, readers?
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