When I awakened this morning, I was alone. The apartment wwas empty, save for the fattlings, the butter, and the lord master of the domain, the glorious fat fatty fat fat fat. Or so I thought.
Wipeing sleep from my eyes, still stuck halfway in the hyper world of dreams, I was confronted by the vicious visage of a coniferous death machine, hell bent on my destruction. It lumbered forward, shedding needles as it lunged for me. I was terrified. I'd cut the fucker down a month earlier, and I knew it would be pissed at the ritualistic decoration and illumination. But I'd never expected it to attack me.
I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. It banged on the door, causing a tinkling sound as fifty little red balls clattered against drummer boys, hobby horses, birdcages, wile e.'s, and straw angels.
I heard a door open outside, just as I was contemplating a window escape route. There was a loud scuffle and a cloud of green needles exploded under the door and filled the bathroom. I cracked the door open slightly and peaked through.
In the hall I found V, katana in hand, standing in a pile of shredded wood and needles. She stood, lopsided, arms crossed, katana dangling at her side. I smiled and blushed, then placed the toilet brush back in its stand. It was the only weapon within arms reach.