Note 69: Death by Dodgeball

I was up late last night in my room reading when I heard the stairs start creaking. This was a soft, eerie creaking.

I stopped reading.

I listened closely.

This was not the kind of 'thump-thump-thump' the younger sibs make as they race up the stairs yelling at each other over the latest drama. No, this was the kind of creaking noise Charles Manson might make if he were slowly climbing the stairs to come get me.

My heart started thumping and I forgot to breathe. I looked around my room for a weapon. Have you ever noticed how on TV shows when there's an intruder that a weapon--be it in the form of a rake, golf club or baseball bat--is always readily available for the character to grab?

Well, let me tell you this is real life and I don't happen to store any of the above items in my bedroom. The best I have is a tall lamp but using that to hit someone with would plunge the room into complete darkness leaving me alone. In the dark. With the person I'm now convinced is Charles Manson or one of his definite wanna-bes.

So, I quickly dismiss the tall lamp as a weapon idea to find I've been left with only one alternative. Balls. Seven of them to be exact.

I stare at the pile. Big soft rubber balls--this is what I have to defend myself with. Another soft creak. I review possible defense tactics that involve rubber balls. Nothing is coming.

I shift closer to my stockpile of weapons. Another creak, this one louder...like Charles has reached the top of the stairs. I cringe and heave up two giant balls, prepared to beat this intruder to death with a mean game of dodgeball.

The door opens slowly.

I start to release my iron grip on both balls, prepared to let them fly but I stop short.

Younger sib stands there rubbing her eyes. "You're still up?"

I nod toward my book, "I was reading."

Sib looks at me funny. (The sound she hears is my heart rate slowing down to normal.) "You weren't in bed and I was worried you had passed out and so I came up here to...what are you doing with those?"

I glare at her. "I told you I was reading. Go back to bed. I'm coming, too."

So while younger sib stands guard outside my bedroom, I click off my tall lamp and follow her downstairs, more than a little giddy that I didn't have to kill any would-be intruders with my dodgeball skills.