Zombie Rats. They’re here.

Let me start this by saying that I love all animals, even mice and rats. Not so much in my house tho. Earlier I came out of the bathroom and crossed my bedroom, catching a quick glimpse of something dark moving down our freakishly long hallway (think The Shining, but without the scary girls on bikes) and there, crawling toward me at lightning speed with gnarled fangs and a twitching tail was a rodent from Hell. I had enough time to suck air in and fill my lungs before I blinked. My mouth was even open, jaws coming unhinged, so I could belt out the scream I was building up in my lungs. I save those sort of battle cry’s for special occasions, like when I encounter a cockroach and need the closest human possible to come relocate said evil insect before I pass out from hyperventilating. Anyway, I digress.

Back to the dark hallway and scary rabid rodent with werewolf fangs: I swear it actually launched itself up off the ground before I blinked a few more times and realized one very important thing: the rat-turned-zombie creature wasn’t salivating at the mouth, ready to eat me from the toes up. It wasn’t a rat at all. It was a balled up black sock. A sock. Just sitting there tucked up inside itself, absolutely still – as socks should be.

Now before you insist I go to the eye Doctor and get myself a pair of glasses, let me remind you – the hallway was dark, and at night without the hall light on it looks like an underground tunnel. Also, I don’t remember seeing the sock two minutes before when I must have passed it to go into my room. So now I have a bigger problem then zombie-rats. My laundry has begun a civil war behind my back.

The sock in the hallway was just the beginning. Tomorrow I might find a shark under the bed in the form of jeans, or a rattlesnake hanging from the bathroom sink that turns out to be a towel. It’s not me – it’s them. Conspiring against me, doing their best to make me go mad.

It’s either that, or I stop watching Paranormal Witness and zombie movies before bed.

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