Never

     Something woke me up. I know there was a sound or something, because I never wake up in the middle of the night. Never. I sleep like a dead man. That's why my girlfriend quit staying here, said she didn't like sleeping next to a corpse. A glance at the darkened alarm clock tells me the power is off. I grab my watch off the night stand but I can't make out the time. Did I mention it was dark?

     I sat up on the edge of the bed, automatically slipping my feet into my fuzzy man slippers, (they were a gift from my girlfriend, actually gorilla slippers) and opened the night stand drawer where I keep a few candles and reached for one. I put it down and lit a cigarette, then the candle. I dripped some hot wax into the ashtray and planted the candle in it. Now I could explore without dropping ashes or wax all over the place.

     A nice breeze was blowing in through the window. As I looked out into the yard, the wind blew the candle out and splattered hot wax on my hand. I dropped the ash tray spreading ashes and cigarette buts all over the hardwood floor. So much for being neat.

     There was a thump in the hallway.

     Probably the dog falling down again. She has these seizures where she just goes stiff and falls down, drooling and shaking. I just don't have the heart to put her down and the medicine the vet gave me doesn't do shit.

     I stumbled back to the night stand and got another candle, lit it and headed toward the bedroom door. It was open. I never leave the bedroom door open. Never.

     I'm a pretty smart guy. I read books. Lots of them. And I know this is a bad thing. Finding a door that is open when it should be closed is bad. Very bad. Unfortunately, there was little I could do but proceed. I mean, I'm an adult, it's not like I was a kid that could go hide his head under the covers. The monster still gets the kid anyway, so either way I'm probably doomed. Maybe I should take a weapon with me though...

     I searched the bedroom looking for a weapon. I knew I didn't really have one, unless you counted the Listerine in the master bath, and I would have to get the monster thing to drink it in order for it to be effective. Then I remembered I had an old set of lawn Jarts in the closet. Remember those weighted missiles you try to throw in a ring? Deadly to say the least. And the ones I had stashed away were more deadly than most. Being a bored, young adult male, I had sharpened my Jarts to a needle point and spent days on end throwing them at targets on trees. I became quite proficient at it. Then I got bored again and put them away.

     I rummaged through the closet and found the box containing the Jarts, stuffing three of them in the back of my boxers. Talk about a load of shit. The forth one I carried in my right hand, my throwing hand. I had the candle in my left hand and my cigarette in my mouth. I was good to go.

     I boldly stepped out into the hallway. My shorts promptly slid off my ass from the weight of the three Jarts. I glanced down at my exposed groin and burned my chest with the cherry red tip of my cigarette. Jerking from the pain, I dropped the Jart from my right hand. It naturally impaled my slipper with it's needle sharp point and embedded itself into the floor with a thunk. I jerked back in surprise and as my slipper was stuck, I fell on my ass, dropping the candle once again.

     This is not good. I'm sitting in the hallway with a cigarette smoldering in my chest hair, my boxer shorts are tangled around my ankles, and my foot is stuck in my fuzzy man slippers that happens to be impaled to the floor. It's dark and I hear another thump.

     I managed to wrangle my foot from my dead fuzzy man slipper and crawled a few feet down the hallway, leaving my Jart laden boxer shorts behind. I felt naked. I was naked except for the remaining fuzzy man slipper. I was also weaponless. I still had a fuzzy man slipper left though so I stripped it from my foot and wielded it like a club. Now I was naked.

     The thumping noise didn't come from the hallway. It came from downstairs. This is good. I have some time.

     I dumped fuzzy man and headed back into the bedroom. This time I got dressed. I put on a fresh pair of boxers and my blue jeans. I buckled my leather belt loosely and went back into the hall and grabbed the three Jarts from my used boxers, stuffing them in my belt. Just to be safe I felt like I needed the forth Jart that was stuck in my slipper. It was stuck pretty good so I braced myself and gave it a good yank. I had pulled so hard that my arms flew up in the air, I lost my grip on the Jart and now it was embedded in the drywall ceiling.

     Three would have to do.

     I went back to the bedroom and slipped on my sneakers. I was out of candles and I didn't feel like crawling around on the floor looking for the ones I had dropped. My eyes had adjusted to the dark a bit so I could just barely see where I was going. I headed back to the hallway.

     The upstairs hall was open to the floor below. I peered over the railing into the darkness beneath me. I could just make out something. Something jerking and shaking in the deep shadows. I took a Jart from my belt and crept along the railing until I was directly above the creature below. I lined up on the target and let the Jart drop. There was an ungodly shriek and a scrambling noise as the deadly toy found it's target.

     God, I hope that wasn't the dog. I could see a pale light coming through the front door. The open door... I never leave the front door open, never.

     Only two needle sharp Jarts left. I need more weapons.

     I went back to the bedroom thinking there must be something else I could use as a weapon. I checked the bathroom again. I fumbled through the vanity and found a can of something. I shook it. I sniffed it, then I sprayed it... right in my face. It was dark. It's not my fault.

     After the searing pain of spraying my girlfriends hair spray in my eyes subsided, I went to the night stand in the bedroom and retrieved my Zippo lighter. Reading books as much as I do, I knew the intelligent thing to do was to test my weapon now to make sure it functioned properly when I needed it. Hair spray plus Zippo lighter equals flame thrower. Not sure which way the nozzle was aimed, I promptly sprayed myself in the eyes again. I recovered eventually. This time, I rotated the vile, pain inducing canister a hundred and eighty degrees around and held it away from my face. I pressed the nozzle and flicked my lighter in front of the hissing can of hair spray, expecting a nice lethal flame. Damn, my Zippo was out of fluid.

     Not to worry, I always keep cans of Zippo lighter fluid around. I may run out of cigarettes occasionally, but I'm never wanting for a light... Never.

     I had some lighter fluid right in the night stand drawer. I was quite adept at filling the Zippo with fluid. I had imagined I could even do it blindfolded. And I did manage to get it filled in the near total darkness. Or overfilled I should say. Now I was ready for my weapons test.

     This time, I held the can of hair spray away from my face, but still managed to liberally coat my hand with the foul stuff. I got the can aimed away from me and gave it another shot. The results would have been entertaining, maybe even mildly amusing under different circumstances. I was a little slow in lighting the Zippo which was overfilled to begin with. It went something like this... The hair spray coated the lighter, I had to flick the overfilled lighter three times to get it lit, finally the lighter lit, the hair spray lit and the ensuing fireball that issued from the can of hair spray caught my hand - which was coated with hair spray and lighter fluid from the overfilled lighter - on fire.

     The pain from my burning hand far exceeded the searing pain from when the hair spray attacked my eyes, and having a low threshold for pain I dropped the hair spray and immediately flailed my hand against my blue jeans trying my best to extinguish the blaze. Being somewhat dimwitted at this point in time, my hand still held the flaming Zippo so I managed to spread even more of the fluid from the overfilled lighter onto my jeans.

     I dropped the lighter and it thankfully went out, I shook my hand and that fire went out, but now my jeans were burning. Off came the jeans. As I stripped them down my legs, some of the fluid from the overfilled lighter that had soaked through to my boxer shorts ignited. The fire from my jeans went out but my boxers were now burning. Off came my boxers.

     You've got to be kidding me. Now I was naked again. Kind of. My smoldering jeans and boxer shorts were caught around my ankles because I couldn't get them off over my sneakers.

     I am surely doomed.

     Desparate for a weapon I could handle without killing myself, I wracked my brain for an alternative to the needle sharp Jarts and hair spray flame thrower. Then it came to me. My girlfriend had a taser stashed in her dresser drawer. I had given it to her for protection but she said they were too dangerous to carry around.

     With my jeans and boxers still down around my ankles, I shuffled over to her dresser. Just as I found the taser in her drawer, my jeans burst into flames again. They were so bound up on my sneakers, I knew I couldn't get them off quickly enough. So I hopped and shuffled my way into the bathroom again, jumped into the shower and turned the spigot on to the hilt. The chilling blast from the icy cold water nearly gave me a heart attack, but that didn't bother me half as much as when the taser I was still carrying shorted out...

     When I woke up it was day light. I was laying half out of the shower with my legs hanging over the edge of the tub, still being drenched by icy water from the shower head. My jeans and boxers and sneakers were right where I had left them, tangled around my feet.

     I turned my head and my girlfriend was standing in the bathroom door way. Leaning against the door jamb with her arms crossed she said, "Why did you kill the dog?"

     Here I was laying on the floor, half naked with my charred pants around my ankles and all she can think about is the... Oh shit, I thought. It was the dog...