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window and in the
closet and under the bed; but still the feeling didn't go
away。
It took me until nearly midnight to understand what it was。
It was me。 Watching me。
Looming Large and Smelly
Sunday I woke up feeling like I'd been sick with the flu。 Like I'd had one of those bad;
convoluted; unexplainable fever dreams。
And what I've figured out about bad; convoluted; unexplainable dreams of any kind is that
you've just got to shake them off。 Try to forget that they
ever happened。
I shook it off; all right; and got out of bed early 'cause I had eaten almost nothing the night
before and I was starving! But as I was trucking into the
kitchen; I glanced into the family room and noticed that my dad was sacked out on the couch。
This was not good。 This was a sign of battles still in progress; and it made me feel like an
invader in my own territory。
He rolled over and kind of groaned; then curled up tighter under his skinny little quilt and
muttered some pretty unfriendly…sounding stuff into his
pillow。
I beat it into the kitchen and poured myself a killer bowl of corn flakes。 And I was about to
drown it in milk when my mother es waltzing in and
snags it away from me。 “You are going to wait; young man;” she says。 “This family is going to
have Sunday breakfast together。”
“But I'm starving!”
“So are the rest of us。 Now go! I'm making pancakes; and you're taking a shower。 Go!”
Like a shower's going to prevent imminent starvation。
But I headed down to the bathroom; and on my way I noticed that the family room was empty。
The quilt was folded and back on the armrest; the
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