I’m sitting here in my room. Alone, alone in my room. It is quite, save for the humming of the cheap fan used to keep the room semi-cool. Every few seconds when it turns towards me, it whispers something in my ear which I cannot quite understand. It tickles- and I have to brush it against my shoulder to make the uncomfortable itch go away. It wisps what little hair I have, in an irritating fashion. I can’t stand it anymore. I’m going to go turn it off.

The fan is now off. Though sadly, the irritating sensation in my ear has not gone away. I am now contemplating whether I could indeed have an earwig in my ear. I do realize however that this is nonsense, and I couldn’t possibly - because Bug-Man Dan just came and sprayed the house yesterday. He guaranteed us an insect-free home for sixty days. Should I find an earwig in my ear, I am going to sue him. Watch out, Bug-Man Dan!

The irritation in my ear has completely subsided, so no suing is in order. However, I am still sitting in my room - alone. With no one to talk - no one to entertain me.

I decided that it would be in my best interest to stare at the Indian Motorcycles poster on my wall. It is something to do, after all. But almost instantaneously, it seemed as if the motorcycle had come out at me, literally flooring it and roaring out of my wall, full-throttle, and crashing into my bedside. Sadly, the motorcycle was hurt more than the bed. It was enough to make me cry. Looking back behind the computer chair, over towards my bed, I found that the motorcycle was no longer entangled with my bedside, but had now resumed its position on the aforementioned wall.

I have just heard a knock on my door. So (lucky for my sanity) I intend to go answer it. Hopefully I will be in the company of another entity, so as to disguise and post-pone my crazy antics at least until further notice, when it may be necessary to return to them.