The Mystery of the 4AM TERROR!!!

Greetings, fearless reader. and welcome to my chilling tale of intrigue, mayhem, and overactive imaginations.

Allow me to set the scene:

Last night, I was lying on my living room floor, playing a video game. It was 4am, which was stupidly late for me to be awake (but just as I’d been about to go to bed, another empire declared war on me, and naturally that couldn’t be allowed to stand). Everyone else was asleep. The house was completely silent.

And then…

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

I jumped a foot. It was coming from the direction of the front door. Who could be knocking that late?!? Anyone who knew us would’ve texted first, so why was a stranger trying to get into my house at 4 am???

And then it happened again!!! BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

I realized it was probably someone who needed a tow truck, and went to the door…

Haha, just kidding.

I freaked right out, and hunched down to scurry upstairs unseen. I left the light on, so “they” wouldn’t see it going off, absolutely certain the door would crash open any second (by a team of home invaders trying to trick me into letting them in, or any number of other equally unlikely scenarios).

I made it to my room and silently shut the door, and then, because I am a strong independent woman…I immediately woke my husband out of a sound sleep to whisper that I’d heard a noise, like a 1950s sitcom housewife.

He heroically leapt from the bed, wielding a folding chair and a katana, and bravely defended us from danger.

Okay, not really. That’s probably what he would have done, if there had been any danger. What he actually did was to open one eye, listen to my nervous babbling, note there was no noise anywhere nearby, and tell me to go to sleep.

By then, I’d largely convinced myself I was being ridiculous, and it probably was just somebody stranded on the road…and I was a jerk for not helping. I was not, however, so convinced that I went down to check.

And I got into bed with most of my clothes still on, because as everyone knows, nothing protects one from murderous miscreants like underwear and a Wonder Woman t-shirt.

I hunted for sleep with eyes wide open and ears straining, waiting for a jackbooted foot to kick the door in while my logic circuits tried to regain control. At one point my husband stirred in his sleep and touched my side, and I had to release my claws to get back down from the ceiling like Sylvester the Cat. But eventually, I slept. And against all expectation, we survived the night.

This morning I woke to my husband sitting beside me on the bed, looking amused. “I figured out who was knocking.”

“Oh?”

“I shut the door to the guest room yesterday.”

The guest room is directly above the foyer and front door. I frowned. “And…?”

“The cat had gotten shut in there. The one who likes to hide in the closet. Next to those empty boxes.”

Yes, the mystery assailant making a knocking noise at 4 am was none other than my cat, scratching an itch, and hitting an empty box with her foot.

Thank God we escaped alive.

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