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January 30, 2008

Wednesday

Today's theme is "something's growing in the basement."

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Jim: There's Something In The Basement

There’s something in the basement.
I can show you where it’s at.
It’s hiding there, all in the dark,
And it’s getting pretty fat.

There’s something in the basement.
You should really come and see.
I’m not quite sure how many arms it has.
But there are more than twenty-three.

There’s something in the basement.
You won’t believe your eyes.
Since the first time that I saw it
It has quadrupled in size.

There’s something in the basement.
Now it’s advancing across the floor.
Its mighty claws are now on the stairs
And I think we should lock the door.

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Stacy: In the Dark

Dinner was excellent. The filet was fork-tender, the asparagus crisp and sweet. He even made dessert…crème brulèe with a perfect glassy-sugar top.

He was either going to ask me to marry him, or murder me.

Over glasses of Cointreau he asked me to accompany him to the basement.

“I want to show you something,” he said, eyes dancing.

Here it is, I thought, the dènoument.

I followed him down into the gloom, and as he reached for the light switch I coshed him smartly across the occipital.

He tumbled down the stairs to land amid planters of Chanterelles.

“Oops.”

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Ted: Tempered

Jake stood at the head of the stairs and called for his wife.

"Honey, where did you go?" Panic made his voice crack. Ever since her 'attack' while vacationing abroad, Sheila hadn't been the same. He was afraid for her safety, but didn't want to have to have her committed. Lately, her bizarre behavior made him think that was the only way he could keep her from hurting herself though.

Or from hurting the upstairs girl again.

He had searched the entire cottage before he heard the scratching coming from the basement.

As the strange blade descended, he remembered India.

Read more from Ted's .

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LJ: Think Happy Thoughts

Don't think about how your wife has turned into a nagging shrew, or how your husband keeps you shackled to the stove and vacuum all day, or how your parents will never understand your self-expression. Just plaster that smile on your face and say, "Thank you, dear," to the pancakes that give you gas, or "Of course," when he asks for pot roast tonight, or nothing at all when they say wear some color -- just go and change.

Because there's something dreadful growing in the basement, feeding on your anger and frustration. Maybe if you ignore it, it'll go away.

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