Tuesday, November 9th, 2010

Our house was infested with cotton balls! Only a few, at first. I was taking down a pair of shelves that I had mistakenly bolted to the wall with bolts as big as jumbo dill pickles, and when I got the second one off there was a whispy patch of cotton balls stuck to the wall. In a weird way. But I couldn’t get a good look at them because the sun had set, so I climbed down off my ladder and crossed the room to flip the light switch … only to discover the electricity was out! Duh-duh-DUHNNNNN!

Naturally, I did what everybody does when they flip a light switch but the lights don’t come on: I flipped it off, then flipped it on again, as if maybe the light switch only forgot to let the electricity get through. “Wow, sorry! Wasn’t paying attention! Here you go!” That might have been weirder, actually. But no, the lights still didn’t come on, and it was getting darker, and when I stepped back into the room to get another look at the cotton balls before the sunlight was gone entirely I could see that there were cotton balls covering one entire wall now!

They were still just cotton balls, but cotton balls that reproduced! And when I turned around to go get a flashlight, they were in the hallway, too! They were everywhere! They were all over the kitchen, and by the time I found a flashlight in the kitchen drawer there were too many in the hallway for me to get back to the room, not that I wanted to any more.

My Darling B came home just then and wanted to know what the hell I thought I was doing by putting up all the goddamn cotton balls in the doorway. It was hard enough to get in with her arms full of groceries, she said, and would have gone on but her eyes had adjusted to the gloom by then and she could see the cotton balls in the kitchen. She flipped the light switch and the lights still didn’t come on but, weirdly, my flashlight dimmed a bit. She flipped the switch off and back on again, dimming my flashlight both times, then asked me if this was some kind of joke. Why wouldn’t I be laughing if this was a joke? I asked her, pretty reasonably, I thought.

There really wasn’t anything to do at that point but get in the car and drive far away. That’s how these movies always end anyway, and we didn’t feel like waiting around for all the scary stuff in the middle. As we were driving away, B sneezed right in my ear and woke me up, then climbed out of bed to go visit the bathroom. I fought the urge to turn on my bedside light to make sure there weren’t any cotton balls on the wall in the corner.

Killer Cotton Balls | 6:08 am CDT
Category: daily drivel | Tags:
3 Comments | Add a comment

3 Comments

  1. 1 G*J said at 10:31 am on November 9th, 2010:

    Ok, you need to write a screen play for this movie. I know some actors. I have a small video camera. I’m thinking Blair witch style. Cotton balls could be some kind of mutant cotton fungus. I see you tube oscar in your future.

  2. 2 The Seanster said at 9:08 pm on November 9th, 2010:

    ……

    At this point–considering the level of insanity of your publicized dreams–I’m assuming all the dreams you DON’T blog about, involve grotesque violence and sexual depravity.

    Goober-ific stuff. :)

  3. 3 Dave said at 6:14 am on November 10th, 2010:

    The ones I blog about are the only ones I remember. I’m sure there are plenty of the dreams you describe going on, but I have no memory at all of them when I wake up, thank goodness. The only time I remember a dream now is when something wakes me up in the middle of one.