I've got a few explanations on why my house has turned into the Amyteville Horror over the past 4 months. There is no logical explanation for why at least one of us, over the past several weeks, has been infected with some form of sickness, the latest being my 12 round fight with a batch of bad crab that I came out on the losing end of.
One? We're part of some reality tv show like that movie "The Truman Show" a few years back. I'm secretly hoping this is it, because Rakes will become a major star and I can finally retire.
Two? It's some government conspiracy designed to drive me nuts and take down some 3rd world dictator at the same time. This somehow involves Trot, a rocket launcher, and one of his "special" diapers.
Three? There is a grand alien plan to take us out one by one and they started with my house because my natural defenses are at an all time low.
Four? We've just had a run of bad luck not seen since William H. Macy in "The Cooler" and I need to change my Christmas plans to a trip to Vegas. 'Cause bad luck can't possibly last much longer than this.
So, as I lay half-awake Sunday night and wished I could die, my thoughts turned to May.
To my next trip to Boston, my next Palooza, and all my friends.
And while it didn't make me feel any better, and it didn't make my head stop spinning it did make me smile.
I guess Christmas really does come early sometimes.
On the 97th anniversary of his birth.
1 day ago