Have you ever had a full-on, out of body experience? One of those ones where you take a step back from the current life-threatening experience you’re going through and watch on from the spiritual sidelines while shit goes down? Having experienced just such an event last night, I can only tell you it’s a moment in my life that I wouldn’t want to revisit in a hurry.
It was near midnight and I was the only one awake, enjoying some brief time to myself working through the backlog of recent horror films that I’ve missed out on, or that I’m not allowed to watch when Roobs is awake as she’d get as far as the opening credits before biting my arm off at the hinge end with fear.
I turned off ‘IT’ shortly before my lounge pants got any more soggy with fear-piss, and climbed the stairs using my phone light to scare off any clowns or balloons that might want to rip my arm off and drag it down the toilet or something.
With my night-vision completely compromised by the harsh Samsung light, I stepped quietly into the bedroom where I assumed my family was out cold.
Suddenly I heard movement to my right. I spun around sharply ready to strike out at any fucker looking like Tim Curry wearing face paints when I saw it. A huge albino bat came out of nowhere and struck me right between the eyes.
I fell against the clothes rack full of wet clothes behind me, (if you’re a fellow parent you understand that every room is filled with these things) scattering soggy knickers in a wide arc around the floor. My arms flailed in front of me trying to fend off the pasty fleshed demon while my throat decided to yodel like a Mongolian throat singer in sore need of a lozenge..
This was it, my time had come as I collapsed to the floor. I could see the white light ahead of me and hear the chorus of angels as I felt myself slip from my body, looking around the room trying to spot where the albino bat fiend had gone to in case it decided to attack my loved ones. Instead, I was served with a large cold dish of reality. It turns out that the chorus of angels’ was little more than my loving wife trying hard not to pish herself or the mattress with laughter, and that the demonic pale entity that had smashed into my face was little more than a size three nappy that had been expertly frisbeed between my eyes by the currently cackling ‘Mrs Pishy Gusset’ herself.
As I dragged myself half onto the bed, clutching my chest and hoping that my heart wouldn’t beat its way out of my fucking throat, The Roobs suddenly realized that if she didn’t get herself to the bathroom as quickly as possible, we’d end up with a bed wetter than one of the lavvy floors on the HMS Titanic.
Moments after, my groans of relief that I had once again evaded certain death were punctuated by the sound of ‘someone’ maniacally laughing whilst simultaneously force pissing the ceramic off the toilet bowl.
So basically, I’ve hardly slept. Partly because I nearly lost my face to the forces of evil, and partly because The Roobs kept me awake for most of the night shaking the bed with intermittent giggling at her own evil genius.