Back in the bathroom, this conversation ensued. It lasted all of 10 seconds. Maybe.
“You know, people in horror movies do stupid shit because they don’t know they’re in a horror movie. Like you just did… walking naked to the top of the stairs to investigate a strange noise.”
“Not in a horror movie.”
“Naked girls get killed first.”
“Not a girl. Not nubile. Not in a horror movie. I have 4 cats. They make noise.”
“The cat is always the ruse.”
I was starting to freak myself out. “Not. In. A. Horror. Movie.”
“That you know of.”
The strange sound of an unfamiliar truck* drives by in my quiet neighborhood. It is loud and weirdly menacing. Quick assessment. Garbage truck? No. Delivery truck? No. Neighbor’s truck? No. Assessment: possible danger.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Fine. I’ll get dressed. I’m not going to die naked. Sneakers today, I think, too. Never know what you’ll need to run from.”
And thus, I quickly got dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers. Because, you never know when your life is going to shift from the everyman story into a horror story. I’m just lucky, this time, I didn’t have a conversation like this at midnight and need to sleep with the light on.
*Saw the offending truck later. It was one of those big dump trucks for leaves, branches, and tree trunks. Guess a neighbor is getting a tree cut down. It was empty, thus echoing and strange.
